Off Pointe
by ALotMoreGinger
Summary: Ahiru isn't too keen on her mean, former classmate Fakir teaching the classes at Gold Crown Academy, but her female classmates definitely are. Though in a moment of vulnerability, she sees a calm and sweet side of him, something she thought was impossible for the brute she grew up with. Gaining feelings for her teacher is the least of her problems however...
1. Chapter 1

I haven't been told someone loves me in almost six years. As depressing as it sounds, I don't really crave it anymore. I don't think I'd really want to hear it from my classmates or my teachers. It's just something that no longer happens. I just want to study and learn to be a professional ballerina. That has become a bit harder with the most recent teaching addition at the academy; one of my old classmates, Fakir Andor.

Ever since Fakir began teaching our intermediate ballet courses, Lilie, who is one of my few friends, along with almost every other girl in his class has been absolutely dreaming of being 'his one and only'. It isn't much of a surprise, though. Half the girls in the class have been falling to their knees just to get him to notice them for a brief second. My bones and muscles start to ache and I lean my head onto Pique's shoulder. Pique and Lilie are the only people who I genuinely care about in this place.

Pique's dark hair gleams with the purplish hues in the soft morning light let in through the studio windows. She had managed to subtly dye it a few weeks back, and no one has noticed still. Lilie trots over, her pink unitard holding her body tightly, allowing every part of her to be seen rather well. Both Pique and Lilie had grown into gorgeous seventeen year olds with well developed chests and hips, while I somehow managed to stagnate puberty at twelve.

With Pique practically dragging me from the studio, Lilie follows behind us even though her eyes don't leave Fakir. How innocent, I think to myself, Someone as hopelessly romantic can fall for a guy as brash as him. I wipe my brow, catching a glance at his adult features. He has aged gracefully, though I shouldn't have expected otherwise. It has only been four years; narrow and dark juniper eyes, a towering frame held nimble by slim and muscular legs, brown hair that pulled back nicely into a long ponytail. We catch eyes, although it is very brief and he seems practically disgusted by me before I look back at my duo of friends. His stare still lingers uncomfortably behind me even as I leave.

"Geez, Fakir sure is an asshole, isn't he?" Pique chuckles, her voice velvety. Lilie can't help but swoon at the mention of his name, though this makes Pique playfully nudge Lilie's arm, attempting to pull her out of her head.

"I think I could be able to satisfy him. Besides, have you seen the way he dances? So full of angst..." Lilie seems to dwell her eyes on him as he leaves the class, his usual groupies flickering around him. Her eyes move back to us, still seemingly love struck.

"He's just so uptight. Maybe he should learn that not everyone can perform such complex moves quite yet. I mean, we're in our second year, we've barely finished learning grande jeté. It's just an intermediate class, for Christ's sake," Pique adds, moving toward the doors into the dorm hall.

"Yeah, I honestly can't say I appreciate his perfectionism on us. I get that he wants our best, but it's hard on us." Lilie continues to affectionately coo over Fakir without even acknowledging our points. Pique just rolls her eyes, still smirking at Lilie's adorable comments.

Throughout the grounds, there is the echoing rumor that girls on campus have been going missing. I can only hear inklings of whispered conversations, but I know the rumors revolve mostly around trafficking. I shudder at the very idea that someone could take another person against their will and just sell them. But then the conversation arises of which ones chose to leave? Were girls actually even missing from the campus, or is it just hearsay? It's something I can't help but think about for far too long, and it makes me noticeably wither, prompting both Pique and Lilie to lighten the mood with idle girl chatter, both of them discussing beautiful ballerinas and dances said to be performing locally soon. We continue to chatter until we make it to our own respective rooms.

I heave a sigh, realizing how dirty I feel. Sweat and grime dripping down my torso as I stretch myself. I think over if I have the confidence to go into the dorm showers after the lesson. It was always uncomfortable having other people look at me nude while I wash off. But I also consider the last time I showered.

I grab my shower bag from its place in the closet, and trek downstairs. 'Student Showers' is etched into the hardwood door. I can hear the giggling of my classmates from the other side. I breathe in deeply, before cautiously opening the door and slipping in nervously. It feels like everyone is subtly judging me as I walk in. It's just the changing room, and no one is minding me, but I still can't shake my nerves. I start stripping down, looking around. Everyone else is so much more developed than me. Larger breasts, more defined hips, and most importantly, much taller than me. I was only about four feet, ten inches compared to the gorgeous five foot, eight inches most girls stand at. I place everything that isn't for showering in my designated locker, snapping it shut as I wrap a towel over my body, entering into the showers.

Inside I felt the steam race across my body, as I stare across the sea of steam and naked women showering and chattering amongst themselves. I nervously pace through the rows of private showers, finding an empty one and slipping in. I slide the shower curtain and hang the towel on the designated hook, and turn the water on, only to be blasted with cold water. A high pitched squeal escapes my lips, which causes a small burst of laughter throughout the chamber of girls. I almost crumble from the sheer embarrassment. My hands quake as I finally step into the scalding hot water, starting to wash my nymphette frame. I let my long hair fall down to my waist, soaking it with shampoo and conditioner, thoroughly scrubbing it.

My hands move down to my thighs and I freeze. I breathe deeply, and scrub my torso instead. I don't want to touch there while I'm nervous. It'd just make me even more on edge than I already am. Shaving was easy, thankfully. I make sure every inch of myself is smooth. I turn the shower off quickly and throw my towel back around myself, before drying everything as thoroughly as I could. I bolt into the changing room, and throw my robe on over my nymph-like nudity. I grab my shower bag and run to my dorm room as quickly as I can.

Slipping into my private dorm, I feel the panic finally settle in my throat. My cheeks finally stop heating up and the anxiety has finally settled. I pull off my robe and stand naked against my locked door, blinds tightly drawn so no one can see my embarrassing body. As I walk to my closet for a dry outfit, I decide to throw on a sundress. It was easy, flowy, and made me look more mature than I am. I open my blinds and open the window, allowing pleasant sunshine inside to kiss my deprived bedroom. I listen to the soft chatter of birds, laying out their usual seed on my windowsill; the birds had been fed this morning, and lunch was looming ever so closely for both them and myself. As soon as their food hit the plaster, I watch as a number of the colorful avians flutter to me. I grin, continuing to lay out more seeds for them. A small yellow bird places herself on my nightstand, staring politely up at me.

"Miss Canary!" I gleefully exclaim to her, holding out my finger for her to perch. "How are you? Are the hatchlings doing well?" The bird happily chirps, her talons gently clutching my pointer finger.

I continue my conversation with Miss Canary, happily knowing I'm making up what she's saying so that I can love her even more. I feel her talons gently lift off, and her wings spanning bigger. I help push her out the window, watching as her wings cut the air, only barely taking a break to push herself up again. The birds are well fed now, and my job is seemingly over with until dinner rolls around. I'm honestly surprised none of the birds I care for are overweight and lethargic. Maybe it's the constant exercise of breezing through the air, or maybe it's just because they don't expect the food. Whatever the reason, it's still baffling.

A loud and unexpected knock at my door causes me to jump, almost out my window, though I manage to catch myself. It's probably Pique and Lilie, I think to myself. It is almost lunch hour, so the thought isn't entirely void of reason that they'd want to walk and sit together. I brisk up to my door, whipping it open and I realize I had the wrong idea entirely. Fakir looms over me like a tree, his demeanor a bit rustled and his body facing away from me.

"Oh, Fakir. What are you-" I begin, though Fakir is quick to cut my words.

"You're failing your current lessons. I would like to help you get back on track. Meet me in the ballet hall in ten minutes." He growls, not even looking at me and in a moment's notice, without a response, left for the ballet hall. A bit shaken, I continue to look down the hallway to make sure what happened wasn't just some odd hallucination. Sure enough, his backside was turned towards me as he suavely walks down the hallway. I step back inside my room, and realize he's not joking. I then throw off my sundress, put on my unitard, my hair in a bun, my feet in my ballet slippers, and begin following after him.

Sprinting out of my room, I try to zoom past every person, narrowly missing everyone, and tripping over, not surprisingly, nothing. I manage to tumble, scraping both my knees to the point of bleeding, but brush it off. I swiftly stand up again and begin running again. My knees still beat with pain. I feel my time slowly ticking away, and the sweat dripping down my face is no help to my already blurry sight. 

As soon as I enter the building, I curve hard into the door and practically throw it off the hinges, causing the three other failing students to be taken aback, while Fakir is standing, totally unsurprised at my flamboyant entrance. I beam at my ability to enter class on time, even if it is a remedial class. Fakir holds his head down, assigning me a place to stand next to a girl who seems to be watching Fakir with utter bliss. 

Geez, I think to myself, I didn't realize how many girls wanted Fakir. Almost all girls, aside from myself, are giving Fakir at least a flirty stare. One girl starts doing her leg stretches in his direction; very open leg stretches on the ballet bar. I roll my eyes, trying to readjust my bun before the class begins. Pulling my leg onto the bar I begin stretching my sore muscles, which are still recovering from morning ballet and my swift kiss with the ground. My leg is only two-thirds of the way pulled up, though as Fakir is perusing past all of us, making sure we have proper form is what I'm assuming, he pushes me down a bit further on the bar in an attempt to make me cramp up. I, in a secure effort to make him think better of me, push myself further, even if it makes my scrapes bunch up and begin hurting. I close my eyes in a futile attempt to mask the pain. Fakir lightly raps on my shoulder with his knuckle. I open my eyes and gaze at him. 

"You're bleeding. Stop stretching." Somehow, I hear a crack of actual concern in his voice through his muddled anger. I look back at my leg and notice a long red thread of blood from my scrape begin trickling toward my thigh. I squirm out of position, discomfort rising in my throat from the sight of blood. 

Fakir forcibly sits me down, staring at both my knees and holding them with a gentle grip. He lets out a worried sigh, though his green eyes seem trained on warmth and gentleness. He stands, keeping a hand on my shoulder and ordering me to stay out while he strides out to the nurse. Sitting in my place, I already feel the glare of three angry girls on me. As soon as he is out of sight, the fellow ballerinas begin pestering me. 

I recognize Antoinette as she approaches me, her burly figure held up by delicate legs. Her face is long and her hair is almost like brown fur; unkempt and tattered despite being kept nicely in a ponytail and bow. She leans down to me, hands on both hips, her thick frame pulling hard against her thin unitard; though even with that, she is very pretty, with flawless skin, soft brown eyes, and small perky lips. She was a large girl, but she was still attractive enough for boys to approach her. 

But at this moment she did not seem interested in being friendly. The girls behind her seem to share the same tight lipped and unhappy expression. Their unitards share a little purple rim around the collar, and their buns seem to match in size. Twins, I realize. 

"So, you think that just because Fakir talked to you more in freshman year, he'll want you more?" Antoinette barks, her lulling and almost motherly treatment seems to have left her from her first and second year. She seems more calculated and cold now. 

"Uhh, I don't really know what you're talking about, Anty." My response is not the one what they want. Antoinette points at my knees, almost implying I fell on purpose. I raise an eyebrow, letting loose a soft chuckle. 

"Do... Do you really think I would trip just to get Fakir to notice me..? You know I'm the queen of clumsiness, Anty." I try to raise my hands in confusion. One of the twins speaks up, her voice lower than I imagined coming from a girl like her. 

"Girls will do anything to get guys to notice them! Especially guys like him." She seems as sour as her face looks. Before they can continue interrogating me, Fakirs footsteps come closer. All girls stood straight, rushing back to the positions they had been in before he had exited. Fakirs entrance immediately smooths out the girls moods, causing them to just stare and gush at him. He kneels down with a small first aid kit handy at his side. 

"Everyone else, practice Temps De Poisson." His cold voice rings clear to the girls and I watch as they practice just as he asked. "As for you," his voice softens towards me, but not by much. Only the kind of softening you'd hear a scolding parent give a child when they fall. "I'm going to have to tend to your scrapes. While they're minor, I don't want the risk of infections and more bleeding." He opens the small medic box, retrieving from it a small bottle of some sort of disinfectant. Holding a rag to the opening of the unscrewed bottle, he tips it over quickly, allowing the liquid to spill over onto the rag before tipping it back up. He screws the cap back on, and informs me it may sting. I nod briefly. 

We lock eyes for a split second and it's awkward. A sort of nostalgic awkward, but still awkward enough for it to be broken with a harsh sting to my knee. I cringe, my hands clamping shut and whimpering into my bitten lip. 

"I know it hurts—girls, keep practicing. Try standing on point—but it'll be over within a minute." Fakir moves onto a fresh cloth, repeating the same process on my other knee. It only lasts a few more seconds, before he places two bandages on both knees. 

"You'll be fine now. Just get back to lessons." He stands up, barely looking at me, and starts directing the individual students. I stand as well as I could before. They were just minor scrapes, after all; nothing seriously detrimental to my ability to perform. And so, I begin practicing with the other girls as we start our positions.

The remedial classes finish at the 1 o'clock bell with all of us sweating and panting heavily. Fakir is absolutely of the mindset that having all of us push ourselves to the edge will make us better. I hold onto the rail, eager to get some food in me. My stomach gurgles angrily. My ballet slipper barely exits the door before I realize that the lunch period has already ended. I groan, realizing I have to skip this lunch and suffer until dinner. 

I stay behind in the class so I can practice my core exercises as Fakir procures a sack of food from his personal locker. He sits outside the class door, pulling open the cloth to reveal half a loaf of bread, two apples, and two portions of ham. My stomach howls even further, but I look away from his food, knowing it'll only make me hurt more. I continue with the instructions Fakir had given us during his lesson. I hold my feet on point with my hand on the bar, though the feeling of my large toe crushing under the pressure of my body still sends pins to my legs and hips. I bring my arm that isn't holding the bar above my head like a crescent moon. My legs keep wobbling. God this hurts, my thoughts seem to ramble on about the pain, before I let my other arm go, bringing it in the reverse position of my top arm. 

Proudly holding the stance for at least five grueling seconds, I fall to the ground, my arms only barely catching my fall and preventing my second kiss being with the ballet studio floor. I sigh and bring myself up again, attempting the same thing, and only managing to fall again in the same way. 

"Idiot..." I hear Fakir whisper to himself. He's watching and judging me now, his eyes burning into my back. I turn to him as I recover again. Pulling himself back into the room, he's obviously frustrated with me. I stand on my toes once more, trying the same thing again. My eyes close, trying to bear the pain of my toes being pressed so firmly into the wooden floor.

A moment passes, and I feel ready to fall, before two hands grab my waist and pull me back up. I look over my shoulder at Fakir whose eyes are distant, but very alert to me. He pulls me back up and starts repositioning my legs, my right in front of my left, along with pushing up on my stomach, sternly reminding me to tighten my core. 

"Fakir, what are you doing?" He steps back from me in silence, motioning to proceed with what I was doing. I stand on point, my feet quivering, but my stance is full and bracing enough to where I know I won't fall. It's painful, but I can't fall over. At that, I start the routine I was given in class; step front, pirouette three times, stand en flat, balance en pointe, and lean forward with arms outstretched. 

I return to my relaxed position, feet regaining feeling as they mesh with the floor holding me much better than before. I turn to Fakir, who has a hint of a smile across his lips. I beam brightly at him, crossing my way toward him. He stiffens, his hands grasping at his hips as he towers above me. Before words even wrap around my tongue, he pulls one of his ham portions out and holds it out to me, offering it without hesitation. I stare at it, unsure if this is a cruel joke or genuine kindness, from him, it's always been a game of chance. 

"Are you sure..?" I prod at the meat, making sure it wasn't something else. It is, without a doubt, ham. 

"Yeah. I'm not going to let you starve. I know you didn't have time to eat." He seems stoic, but his cheeks change into a shade darker. At that, I take the food, thanking him. He nods and lets me have his spare apple and a portion of his bread. As school mates, he absolutely hated me and would have cared less if I starved for days on end. Something, somehow, had changed in him. Right now I don't know what it is, but I'm glad that it changed him. Thanking him, he simply nods and grabs the remainder of his things and saunters to his dorm, I assume. 

I sit outside the ballet hall, nibbling on all the food I was given, managing to cram it down before class starts. I know I'm going to regret that decision, but it's fine. As I lift myself from the ground, my bones give a satisfactory pop. Pique and Lilie approach me from halfway down the hall, Lilie giving a joyous wave with Pique holding her hips and giving a loving smile. 

"What are you doing here so early, Ahiru? You're never this early to afternoon lessons," Lilie exclaims, taking my hands into hers and her golden curls bouncing around her porcelain face. I shrug, a bit flustered and uncomfortable with their sudden appearance but it's to be expected from them since they are better than me and always punctual. 

"Oh, Fakir asked me to come down for remedial lessons." I can't lie to them, they'll see right through me into my tiny girlish heart. Both stare, Lilie holds my hands and squeezes tighter. Her eyes soften to me, and smiles resurface after a few seconds. 

"Aw, poor little Ahiru! Always a little behind on her studies!" Lilie pulls me into a thrusting hug which sends me forward a bit too much, as though I'm a small child who's in constant need of reassurance. I hug back, knowing her too well to assume she'd honestly think of me as a baby. Pique chimes in, her brown eyes shimmering as she coos at me. 

"At least Fakir is trying to help you." Pique pats my shoulder as Lilie releases her motherly embrace. Our trio makes our way into the room, waiting patiently for Mister Katt to arrive in class. We chat about mild things, books, birds. Somehow the conversation derails at the mention of the one guy who I have fallen truly in love with. 

"Mytho has gotten pretty famous since he left," Lilie pipes up, her swoon reviving, but in favor of my interests. I feel a small grin tug at my mouth, a shy fumble of my fingers. Mytho is someone I've been pining over for five full years. He has a blossoming career as a professional ballerino, in magnificent productions for someone who is just barely 18. We had gone to see him in the nutcracker, and he was amazing. 

"Yeah. He sure is amazing." A dreamy lull fills my voice. He's such a fantastic ballerino dancer, his glistening white hair that paled stars, snowy skin, and those captivating hazel eyes. How could anyone have resisted him? I tune out, thinking about that one time we spoke. It wasn't about much, just birds, weather, and his lessons. His voice was soft, almost like a songbird. I feel my cheeks flush thinking about how well he danced in the higher class. How light he looked, how dreamy his expression was. That boy seemed like he was always in a daydream. 

"Yeah, didn't you hear? Him and Rue are getting married next weekend." My happy memory snaps in two. Feeling my muscles struggle to look at them, I hesitate to ask. 

"Married? Where'd you hear that?" My face pales, fear sinking far into my stomach as Pique smooths herself to my side and raps her hand on my shoulder. 

"Oh, Ahiru... it'll be okay. We know you liked him and all, but..." Lilie tries to console me, her fingers twirling a free strand of my hair. 

Before words begin to escape my mouth, our teacher stalks his way into the class, abruptly closing our conversation. We turn to him, only just realizing a good three-fourths of the class is already here. We turn to face him, Pique and Lilie removing their hands and arms from me, but I still feel their comfort. 

Our instructor, Mister Katt is a rather uncomfortable figure to be around. He's very tall and has a rather thick stomach, but his performances are always supportive of his body; very bottom-supportive exercises. His coarse body hair is almost everywhere, ever-present amounts always poking out of somewhere. His yellow eyes are always poised outside of the room, giving him a glossy stare during lessons. As the last trickle of students file into the room, the lesson begins.


	2. Chapter 2

My muscles can no longer take it. Shortly after lessons, I collapse to the studio floor with such little air left in my lungs, I feel like a ghost. I wheeze in all the air I can get as my lungs can barely hold anything. Pique slides me into her arms with ease, holding me like a small child. I gasp and start squirming. She smirks and holds me tighter, reminding me that I barely surpass forty kilograms. I can't fight back even if I want to, so I just enjoy the softness.

Pique smiles and allows me to take a slight rest while bouncing in her arms, getting very personal with her soft chest. The looks we receive on our way to the dorms are nothing short of unusual. It doesn't happen often when a student is so tired they have to be carried. Lilie manages to open my door, with Pique laying me on the bed, offering me anything. I wave off her offer, assuring her I just want to take a nice long nap. I smile as I watch them leave, cuddling closer and their hands holding each other. I think for a moment and smile fondly at them.

But, as my word is true, I begin drifting off into sleep, not bothering to change into my nightgown. I pull my comforter over my cold and clammy body, drifting off.

I dream of someone dancing with me, someone familiar. I can't place their face immediately, almost like they're being censored from me. As we continue dancing, the song begins to slow down, and start creaking like an old music box that needs to be wound up again. As the last note falls to an astounding halt, the face is revealed. Fakir is standing in front of me, hand clasping gently to my hip. He leans forward, and I begin leaning into him, pushing myself up on my tip toes. I touch his soft lips to mine, his hands pulling closer up my back.

With eyes opening once again, my vision is greeted by the soft glow of a waning moon. I arise from my comforter, staring down at my pink unitard. I must've slept for who knows how long, since last I remember, the sun was barely passing over the western houses. Bits and pieces of my dream rouse my memory, but nothing particularly out of the ordinary for dreams. Just strange dances to strange old songs. It sounded like Dance of the Knights, but I'm not entirely sure since the song seemingly blended with other noises around me.

I rise, rubbing away the sleep from my eyes. Throwing my feet over the edge of my bed, I let a long yawn slip from my gaping mouth and I return to my feet, wobbling for a second as I regain balance. I want another shower, I think to myself; I want to scrub myself clean of that uncomfortable dream. It feels so sinful, hot water is the only way to let it go. Groggily pulling my unitard off, I cover myself with a clean robe, only to be used for the showers. I step out into the desolate landscape of the halls, tiptoeing through the silence with near precision.

I make it to the showers without interference, and creak the door open, peeking in. No one; perfect. I enter, pulling a towel from the rack, and disrobing. I hate using them a little less when they're empty, but it's still exposing my slim and childlike body. I throw my robe over the coat hanger opposite of the shower head, so it's easy to grab from where I am. Jerking on the old shower knob, a jet of cool water splashes down my front which by proxy sends waves of shivers and thousands of goosebumps to raise throughout my entire body as I squeak again. This time there's no laughter, just the echoing of my squeal against the empty walls. I thrust myself forward to try to change the temperature as quickly as possible. As the water becomes warmer and warmer, I begin to reinsert myself underneath the tingling droplets.

As I wash myself, I begin to rethink the dream. I don't really want to kiss Fakir, it's just a dream. He's been so mean to me over the years, it's a fact that he hates me at this point. He's always so venomous towards me, no matter what I do. Except during remedial lessons, but even then he is cold towards me. What was that crack in his voice? He almost sounded sympathetic, almost like Mytho did.

Mytho. I remember him so fondly, despite barely knowing him. His golden eyes still pierce me as I recollect many fantasies I've had about him. Mostly just romantic things, like him falling in love with me, marrying me, and fathering our two children, named Sonata and Hamnet. I feel a smirk pull at my lips, gently reminding me of how sweet he was. But he's no longer available for anyone but Rue; it must be nice feeling that kind of pure love. A shiver runs up my spine as I realize no one could love me. My feet give out and I fall to my knees, barely able to hold myself together. I face myself towards the head of the shower, water droplets mixing with salty tears I presume are already falling down my face. I don't want anyone to know I'm crying if they come in.

I'm doomed to be the lonely sitting duckling for the rest of time; unloved and unwanted. I can't help but think of all the events that foretold this future of continuous abandonment. How can I always be so naive to people's true intentions? More and more the water collects around me, pooling all around the floor as I sit on top of the shower drain.

I sit long enough to where my fingers start to prune and only soft hiccups replace my sobs. My body forces itself to rise, with the greatest possible energy I am able to muster from my sore and unwilling limbs. The knob of the shower is harder to turn back, but I manage to do it. I link my arms around to the fluffy and comforting hug of my robe, and dry my body as quickly as possible. I open the shower door, practically forcing myself to leave. As I look out the small window at the end of the hall, I notice the sun peeking in over the mountains.

I leave my pity in the shower drains and my face perks up. No ballet today, so I can finally travel back to town and see some of the parks. It's been a long time since I went out on my own. Maybe a trip to the library will clear my brain of all it's rainclouds. Opening up my room again, through my window I watch as the sun begins painting the sky it's oranges and purples, with gentle blues overlapping them all. My eyes don't leave the sky until the baby blue becomes the entire sky, prompting me to put on my summer clothes. I slip into my yellow, high-waisted shorts while tucking in my white turtleneck, pulling my sleeves to my elbows and billowing out the door.

The outside world illuminates me, streets only barely starting to bustle with people as I step out of the academies boundaries and into the streets. The sound of bird songs creates a chipper mood in the air, allowing a skip in my step as I walk through the streets. Scanning for either a library or a park, I manage to catch a few lingering conversations of others. I can't help but shake the feeling of people watching me, but it's not overwhelming.

I continue my stroll, falling prey to the tantalizing entrance of the park. As my walk continues, I feel enveloped in the bird songs, sending back my human renditions of their songs. Many of the birds fly closer, singing again, with myself mirroring their tune. I feel as many of my friends place themselves on my shoulders and arms. My eyes scan around me, hoping no one can see the odd scene I am causing. I cross my legs below me, peacefully placing myself below the thicker of trees and shrubbery.

I feel comfortable once again, finally sitting with my feathery friends in a place I can't be judged. My friends sing a song, not in harmony with anything other than their own beats. I begin gossiping among them, knowing fully well I look insane and if anyone caught me, I'd immediately be sent to the looney bin. My voice is kept low as a result, conversing partially with myself. I begin reimagining and telling them the dream and a slew of my friends, toward the end of the story, separate from my arms and fly off towards their respective branches. I am so utterly baffled by their sudden departure, I feel absolutely alone. Am I really that weird of a person that even birds don't like me anymore?

My ears perk up as the sound of snapping twigs and grass crunching fills my air. I twist and turn until I catch the eye of another person. They aren't looking at me, or anything I can see. They're just walking through thickets of forestry, and I'm intrigued by their presence immediately. I keep the distance between us, wondering where they're going or what they're doing. My heart beats, as with each of their footsteps I catch less and less of an image of them. Soon, an opening appears, completely void of any life, yet somehow still green and lush. My breath is soft and almost not even there, my eyes stare from behind a tree as the person finds their place in the center of the entire field, completely void of knowledge I'm watching them.

Their back facing towards me, I watch as they pull out a large broadsword, and even from a far distance I can tell they hold it firmly and with stability. The person stands en pointe and begins dancing with the sword, with unbelievable grace and agility. My mouth can't help but sit agape in awe as they wield it so perfectly balanced with such a beautiful moveset, their entire body moving so freely like a willow, but so tense and precise as well. The person twirls, sword outstretched and body firm, their identity finally revealing itself to me as they come to a stop to allow a small bird to perch itself on the blade of his sword.

Gentle and loving green eyes stare at the small creature, not even sweating at the amount of precision and sheer force it takes to do those moves. Fakir outstretches his finger, and the bird graciously flutters over, allowing him to replace his sword in his scabbard. I can't help but stare at Fakir, so enthralled and amazed at how genuine and kind he actually is to things that aren't people.

Immediately as a smile curls to my lips, my birds reappear and practically swarm me, making a giant scene. They sing and peck and practically force myself to lunge into the open valley. As soon as I'm in clear skies, all but Fakirs blue bird is left. My face reddens immediately and as I sit up, Fakir has already noticed me and is approaching me. Upon sheer instinct, I apologize profusely toward him, denying immediately that I had seen anything. His eyes are stern and he is very obviously planning something. As his body gets closer to mine, I feel my body begin to quake and shiver and fear stings in my chest. He approaches me, his gaze following mine.

"What are you doing out here?" His hand brandishes the hilt of his sword; I swallow as hard as I possibly can, hoping that he won't slice me open with that blade. I want to desperately explain myself, but word vomit is the only thing that manages to dribble out. His eyes linger long on my face, trying to find something to prod at probably. My face feels both drained and hot while his brows stop furrowing and he's no longer angry at me. He lets loose a gentle breath and sits himself beside me as though I am his old friend. His hand lingers on the grass as he stares into the meadow with his tiny bird watching off into the distance with him. There's a silence between us; a silence that holds in the sweet air we have. Finally he glances over at me again, his green eyes glittering in the sunlight.

"Do you know why I treat you the way I do?" His tone startles me, his words are sweet for once. We keep our eyes locked before I stammer out a nervous denial. He smirks and looks into the grassy null, undoing his long ponytail. The shoulder length hair makes gentle waves around his face. He seems more like a person and less like a teacher. Less authoritative, less perfect, more… Human.

"I think you can do a lot more than you let on. You're a passionate student, and I want you to use that passion and turn into a respected professional." Something is totally different about him right now. I analyze him, going over every small detail of his disposition, trying to find a hint of satire or sarcasm. Something normal about him.

His bird floats off into the blue air. His hands move into his lap, folded and neat. The greenery is duller around us it seems, colors less colorful when his face changes. He gives me one more glance and he shocks me once again.

"Forget about this, okay? You shouldn't trust me," his bones crack as he stands, "I don't expect you to like me, either." My eyes follow him as he disappears back into the thicket of woods. He's an enigma. He's one of the strangest people I've ever met. I know I should start looking at what makes him act like that, but it's something that I don't know where to start. There's so much to unravel but I can't find the thread that holds it all together.

I seat myself between Pique and Lilie in our mess hall the next morning, dwelling far too heavily on what Fakir meant when he spoke to me. _You shouldn't trust me_, his eyes echoed with something sad. Something far into himself that I can't comprehend, that I might not be able to understand. Pique rubs my back, and comforts me, detailing how everything would be better eventually and that I'd be out of remedial lessons soon. Even with this reassurance, Lilie takes my disgruntled mood in a completely different direction.

"I know you're sad about Mytho, but you have to understand that it just wasn't meant to be." Lilie gently rubs my back, affectionately reminding me of Mytho. This does not improve my mood whatsoever, only making me groan in agony as the thoughts of their gorgeous wedding zooms into my already tired mind. God, Rue will look like a goddess in a wedding dress; her dark hair filled with flowers and a white veil barely revealing her adult features. She probably will have chosen a gorgeous floor length dress, with everything laced into it. She'll probably look beautiful. My brain keeps imagining how perfect their wedding had been, and I can't even focus on what Fakir said anymore. I plant my face into the table with an abrupt thud.

"Ducky... There's no need to pout," Pique and Lilie chime together, their voices mixing together to form a new sound. My eyes drag upwards, hoping to catch a glimpse of something satisfying; I hope it's death. Death would probably be satisfactory at this point, no reason to live without Mytho being mine. I say this sarcastically in my head, but partially wish it was a reality. Alas, instead there is a boy I go to class with, awkwardly waving to me. I give a smirk back, before slamming my head back onto the table. I don't know much about him, but he seems harmless enough. Just the kind of kid who crushes on a new girl every week and can't seem to get any of them. He's not unattractive, just rather plain. Short brown hair, grey eyes, a rather slender figure, and average height.

My suffering ends as soon as the breakfast bell chimes. Pique and Lilie stand with me, and as I step away from their middle, their hands once again intertwine with each other. My mouth turns into a slight grin as I recognize their situation. They probably don't want the word getting out, so I keep my mouth shut. For a small time I feel giddy and all my woes are gone. I knew they had liked each other for quite some time, but I didn't think they'd actually end up dating; this was nice. A pure exhibition of love, something I wish I'll have one day.

I carry myself on weak legs as I watch my classmates scurry to their extracurricular activities. Instead of just moping to my dorm, I check the Cork Board in the courtyard, it always has events plastered from around the town for us to see. Immediately, I notice a flyer for the performance group I had been told about earlier in the week. I brisk over most details, eventually finding Mytho and Rue's names in the cast section. My heart flutters in both fear and joy. I so badly want to attend, but the thought of seeing Rue again absolutely horrifies me after she absolutely berated me in front of our entire class. Calling me 'uneducated', 'ungraceful', and 'totally uncoordinated' after I had forgotten one of my moves in a routine. She would consistently look down at all the underclassmen who couldn't perform as well as she did, giving her the title of "Queen Black Swan".

"Would you like to attend?" Fakir's cold voice echoes in my ears. I whip around just as he stands straight, towering over me. He looks just like he did in the woods. I stammer out a graceless yes, and he gives a smirk that reminds me of that one dream.

"Good thing I have an extra ticket. Care to join me?" I cock my head at his comment.

"An extra? Why do you have two?" He shrugs, his eyes narrowing as he continues, his voice a bit colder.

"Does it matter? Don't you want to watch one?"

"Well... Yeah. But I don't want to intrude on your night." I try to deflect him, but he's already walking away.

"You're not intruding if I invite you. Meet me here at nine tonight. Look formal, please." He waves me off, giving one last look at me from over his shoulder. Those eyes give off the same feeling he gave when he left me in the field, the one that I can't shake from my psyche. My legs finally start to carry me to my room, eager to see Mytho again even with Fakir accompanying me. I rummage around my miniature closet, looking for something nice to wear as I toss aside all my uniforms, unitards, tutu's, and summer dresses. Each dress is coming closer and closer to what I was expecting before I find it. A dress my mother gave to me before she 'left me', as my father put it. She said it was something she had always wanted to wear, but never knew when she would. She passed it onto me when I was thirteen, right before she went missing and Father dropped me off at the Academy. I pull it off its hanger, staring down at it.

It's beautiful. A blue babydoll style dress, with the sleeves starting past the shoulders and ending as my ribs. It's made of something soft, something very comfortable to slip into, to say the least. I stare at the bell tower; two-thirty. I still have plenty of time before I even need to start for the Cork Board. I probably need to meditate a bit, the thought of analyzing Fakir. The reminder that remedial lessons start at three today reignites the panic in my mind. My training gear is lost under ten different outfits now, and I have to get there early so Fakir doesn't revoke my ticket.

My burst of adrenaline makes everything go by much slower even though I know I'm rushing. The only clean unitard I have is my black one, so I swiftly pull it on, and hurry out the door with water and flats in hand. I stumble my way into the ballet hall, before stopping in front of my room, trying to yank open the door with absolutely no luck. I look out of the nearest window, confused. 2:40. I got here early for the first time, so early that Fakir isn't even here. I sit in front of the double doors, taking a large swig of my water and a prolonged breath.

As I wait, the boy I had noticed in the dining hall approaches the double doors. I think nothing of it at first, plenty of people are discussing curriculum and exercises with their teachers, with Fakir being no exception to that rule. I watch as he stands beside the door, presumably waiting for the class to start. An increasingly uncomfortable silence begins to boil between us, and makes each minute feel so much worse than the last. I know he's looking at me at this point. He finally inhales and asks me, voice cracking.

"H-hey, a-are you here for the exercise regimen too?" His voice shows how truly nervous he is. While his voice is a bit deep, his pitch is overshadowed by his very shaky and cracking tone. I smile and shake my head no.

"I have remedial lessons today. Did you need them?" I say, not losing my smile. I try to keep the idle conversation, even if it feels a bit awkward. He seems very sweet, maybe uncouth at most. His hands begin to shake and his face turns a bright pink, his hands nervously fixing his messy brown hair. He gives me another glance, stammering out a meek "yeah". The conversation ends, and Fakir approaches the double doors a few moments later, keys jingling in his hands.

"You're early, Ahiru. What a surprise," He twists the key in the lock, letting loose creaking doors as they breeze open. He turns his eyes to the boy. "Yes Wayland? What did you need?" Fakir's cold voice seems to send shivers through the boy beside me, causing him to stand up straight.

"I forgot where I put my exercises, Mister Andor! If I could have an extra sheet of the male exercises, I would be greatly appreciated!" Fakir rolls his eyes at the boy, clearly uncomfortable with the formal composure Wayland shows him.

"Come in, then. I have an extra somewhere in my pack. But once you get them, you have to leave. I don't want to have to speak to you about our last incident," Fakir waves both of us into the room and I set myself against the mirrors, lacing up my shoes. I can still feel Wayland's silver eyes on me, but I think nothing of it. He's just lonely. Besides, there's a 'no intermingling' policy, which just means boys and girls can't share dorms, date, or show affection on campus. Even so, it's pretty well known I'm not interested in dating anyone, so he more than likely knows there's no chance in trying to woo me. He leaves the classroom slowly, almost slinking out, waving at me. Waving back, I cant help but feel like I've opened Pandora's box. I wait for the other girls to enter class, barely looking at Fakir. The discomfort between us is long and uninterrupted until the standard group of girls enter the class. He claps his hands together and we begin our jumps.

~~~~~

Sweat beads down my forehead as my legs shake with vigor. I take three long gulps of water before I notice everyone else is gone. Fakir glances at me and begins walking over, taking a seat beside me, and looks at the doors. He leans his thick olive skin against the mirror as he watches the other girls leave.

"You're strong willed. I'm proud of you for trying so hard," He lets a small grin through as he glances at me. I smile back, panting through my words.

"I... want to get better. I can't... get better without... trying." I wipe my brow and envision myself as a great ballerina, something I could be proud of. Fakir nods in agreement and wipes his slick neck. We sit, the silence no longer awkward but still a bit more than uncomfortable. His hand rests on my back, a new topic arising.

"I still remember when you came to school. You were so quiet when you came into the last year of your elementary class." He chuckles and runs his fingers through his hair, pulling out this pony tail and revealing his dark brown cascades of hair. I feel a slight flush of my cheeks as he continues speaking.

"You looked like a scared little duck. I was so put off by seeing someone like you; someone so small, so childish, so... uncomfortable. I really couldn't grasp who you were, unlike everyone else. I honestly thought you were going to treat me like all the other girls did." He shoots me a glance with his affectionate pining eyes as he continues.

"Girls here treat me the same as they did before. Like I'm just something attractive to hold as a trophy. Mytho was kind of the same, but he adored the attention. He doesn't show it, but it's obvious to me how much he craves the attention from girls. He went on to be a ballerino, so I guess that's expected of him now. I wish you could've heard what he said about you though," Fakir slouches himself, adjusting his voice to a higher pitch and tired tone, "'She's so cute, I think she likes me, but do you think she loves me or you more?'" He resumes his original disposition, and we share a good-hearted laugh about it. But a small twinge pulls at my heart, uncomfortable with the possibility that Mytho could even think like that. He was always so stoic and kind, as far as I remember. It didn't seem like who was in class with me four years earlier.

"Did you ever like Rue?" My fatigue eases and I stare into him through the mirror. He rolls his eyes and presses his face into his hands, frustration climbing into his face.

"God, no. She has such high expectations of everyone. Not to mention she's controlling. She couldn't let me or Mytho do anything without having to know exactly where we were, what we were doing, blah blah blah, 'I'm Rue and I'm an overbearing bitch who can't handle the thought of Mytho being around other girls who are prettier than me,'" We laugh again, with me eventually holding onto my stomach from the pain that twinges inside.

"She was so mean to everyone all the time, for no reason. Like, you're just genuinely passionate about ballet, you want to get better. But she just wanted to be mean for the sake of being mean." I manage to loosen up and my stomach stops hurting, but we still have interspersed chuckles. We just begin ranting and raving about them, discussing how rude and vain they are. Fakir and I meet each other's gaze once more, and we hold it. We hold a smile between both of us, his eyes glimmering in the golden skies let in through the windows. There's a long chime of the tower bell, signalling hour seven. My eyes shift towards the door, my entire body shaking in embarrassment as I realize we only have 2 hours to get ready and be at the venue. I tell Fakir that I'll meet him at the Cork Board in an hour as I run to my dormitory. He agrees, but stands much slower. I can still see a smile on his face as I leave, but I can't see much more.

My door virtually flies off its hinges just as quickly as I come inside and slam it shut. I nearly rip off my unitard and start changing into one of my less formal dresses, a knee length white dress with a black belt holding my waist. I can't help but stare at my mother's dress, even though I know it's not the right time to wear it. I pull my hair from its bun, and begin braiding my long hair. I'm thankful that my mom at least taught me that before she left. I throw the braid over my shoulder, and pull on nice blue flats. Then I leave for the Cork Board, holding my small breasts firm into my chest, hoping desperately for Fakir to be later than her. I stare out into the whispering sunset as the last wisps of the golden sky merge with the navy and canary-colored star speckled night.

As soon as the Cork Board is in view, I see Fakir waiting there with his arms crossed firmly. The closer I get though, it's obvious he isn't mad. In fact, he seems rather glad to see me, his arms unfolding as I get closer and his full formal wear showing in the beautiful rays of sun. A black vest over a white long sleeved button-up and nice black pants. Instead of saying anything, he holds out his arm for mine to intertwine, easily accepting his silent proposition. We begin walking to the venue in partial, and nostalgic, silence. There is suddenly the crunching of feet against the gravel roads, running towards us. Fakir and I both turn around to see Wayland, rushing in a more party-esque style, sweat beading down his thin, red face. We stop for a quick moment and Fakir releases my arm, staring at the boy.

"Yes, Wayland? What did you need?" Fakir's shadow drapes over me, covering me from the sight of this poor boy for some unspoken reason. Wayland stands straight and salutes the towering adult.

"Mister Andor, I would be most pleased if I could be able to join you and the fine lady Arima on your trip to the dance hall." He doesn't lose his salute until Fakir speaks back with distaste in his mouth.

"Wayland, this is a private study between me and a student. If you would like to attend, you must purchase your own ticket and attend yourself." Wayland nods furiously, procuring a small ticket from his pants pocket, though it is very obviously slick and quite moist.

"I assure you sir, I will not disturb your lesson. Is it okay if I at least walk with you?" Wayland sends me some cautious and affectionate looks, but I stand closely behind Fakir, since I don't feel totally comfortable with his stares. Fakir lets loose one more sigh, his arm holding me away from him.

"You may attend," Wayland's face lights up, but Fakir keeps going. "But you must not distract Ahiru from her lesson whatsoever. No talking during the performance whatsoever, and if I catch you attempting to distract her, you will be penalized. Am I clear?" Fakir lets the the crickets speak between them before Wayland begins following behind us, Fakir taking my arm once more and we begin walking.


	3. Chapter 3

The venue is gargantuan enough to hold probably around a University worth of people. I stand there, taking in the gorgeous Victorian architecture. The double doors hold open to the groups of people filing in politely with their lovely formal attire. It's unlike anything I've ever seen in my life; I never thought a place so heavenly could actually exist in this world, but here I stand.

Fakir nudges my arm. I jump a bit and look back up at him, my face rushing with blood. He motions inside, bowing down to see me a little better. I nod and follow his lead, my hand holding onto his very gently as we practically float into the building. Handing off our tickets, we are told our according seats. Fakir must have gotten the tickets early, since we have seats almost directly in front of the stage. Fakir seats me before sitting beside me, handing over a small notebook and pen.

"While I would love for this to be a purely entertaining experience, I do need you to study the moves they use and how they carry themselves." Fakir leans into my ear, his hand brushing lightly against mine, sending a shiver up my back. I nod my head, our eyes focusing on each other, until a familiar cracking voice breaks Fakir from me.

"So, Ducky, maybe tomorrow, we could-" Wayland finds his way towards the front, and begins fidgeting with his fingers before Fakir interrupts him again, even more scolding and authoritarian than before.

"This is a lesson, Wayland. Not an invitation to a date. If you would like to pursue a relationship, please feel free to do so outside of lesson plans, and once you have either flunked studies, or graduated," A frustrated scowl lines Fakir's pink lips. Wayland cowers a bit, but goes to the back of the theatre, to his seat I presume. The lights begin to dim down, and every voice hushes to the smallest whisper. I stare up into the stage and watch as the characters begin playing onto the stage.

"_La Sylphide_," Fakirs voice murmurs into my ear, his finger gently rapping against my page. I swiftly jot it down on the top of the page. I continue to watch the graceful movements as they prance about the stage. Throughout the full duration of the first act of the ballet, I manage to write down so much, only mildly disturbed by the feeling of Wayland's eyes on me from so far in the back. Mytho and Rue are, very obviously, the leads.

I watch them as they intertwine and act as one, their eyes locking together each time. No smiles fall on their lips though, like they're stoic gods. I try to write down as much as I can, though my eyes always seem to drift to Mytho. I imagine dancing alongside him. Fakir nudges my arm, pointing at the page. My pen was just scribbling against the page, mindless nonsense filling the lines. Fakir rolls his eyes and mouths to me 'focus'. I shrink down and nod again. I watch as the characters flow onto the stage with such graceful ease. By the time the curtains fall, I have around 3 pages filled with questions and observations. Intermission is only about fifteen minutes, so I try to run over as much as I possibly can with him.

"What was the step where they hopped from one foot to the other, with one leg in the air?" I ask with trepidation. I know he hasn't told us what that is, but I can't help but hold back my hand tremors. He thinks for a moment, his eyes not shifting from the stage. He looks back at my page, turning it towards him so he can read my full description. With a mindful 'oh', he confesses, turning back my journal and resuming his eye contact with the red curtain.

"_Temps levé arabesque_. We'll be learning that next week, if everything goes right. Any others you don't know?" He turns back to the stage, avoiding my gaze entirely. Flipping through the rest of my pages, I find nothing extra to add. He pats my hand, asking one more question, though there's a definitive tone change, as though the answer I give will change his mood entirely.

"Do you enjoy the show so far?" I have to think for a moment, despite knowing my answer. It is strange to see Mytho and Rue as professionals now, but they dance so perfectly with each other. After a long moment, I respond as cheerfully as I can to him.

"Yeah, it's gorgeous. Thank you for taking me here, Fakir. I know it's a bit of a burden on you, but I appreciate it!" His eyes match with mine again briefly, and there is a visible melancholy. Why would he be melancholic? There's something I said wrong, but I can't for the life of me figure it out. He's still the enigma and that's endlessly frustrating. His eyes are still somber, but his lips curl into a soft grin. He nudges my shoulder, motioning his hand towards the rustling behind the curtains.

"You like it because Mytho is the lead, don't you?" He jokes with me. I laugh, mocking his own.

'No. It's a good story and I like the dancers."

"Especially Mytho."

"Not just Mytho! The other dancers are good too." He might be right, but I don't want him to know that.

"Oh sure. I like the dancer who portrays the cat." He gives way, sitting back in his chair, arms crossed and eyes back on the stage.

"There's no cat, you dingus" I retort, smiling at the curtains as they rise. He lets loose a final chuckle, admitting defeat.

"You're much less gullible now that you're almost an adult. I'm impressed." Fakir stands, telling me he'll be back soon. I nod and smile, as I continue staring at the long red curtains. I hearn Waylands voice as he loudly begins speaking, though I can't tell what about. I just stare at my notes, starting to doodle little ducks all over the pages. This goes on for a few minutes before Fakir comes back, less amused than earlier as he sits down without another word and arms folded over his chest.

People begin filing into the seats again, and the lights start to dim down. There is a wave of silence that drifts over everyone. The last of the people trickle in, the only sound being the clicking of peoples shoes and the wheezing of the old satin chairs.

The red curtain starts to rise to reveal the last act of the play. I watch the dancers for a moment, but then return my gaze to Fakir. He's cross armed, still, but he looks like he is physically pained to watch this. He notices me and I shift my eyes back to ballet, but I know that look. He had the same look when we were in the field, back when we were in school together. My empathy can't help but kick in, and I desperately want to ask, but I don't think he wants to talk it over. Not right now.

I write a few more notes down, doodling some of the poses they hold, but my mind is continuously racing about Fakir. As the final act ends and the audience applauds, the dancers bow and give their thanks to the director and the people in front, my eyes drift once more to Fakir. He is still emotionless, still stoic, still cold. His arms are still crossed, his eyes narrow as he huffs a displeasured sigh. As the final curtain falls, he takes hold of my free hand and leads us out of the seats.

"Wait, shouldn't we wait for-" He pulls me so hard air is forced from my lungs.

"No, we aren't waiting for him. He knows how to get home. You're unsafe around him." Fakir forces his way through the crowd, almost pulling my arm from my socket as we make our way through the forest of towering people. As soon as the cold night air hits my body I can feel our pace become faster. Fakir stays silent, though I can feel his heartbeat though his slick fingers. It's unnaturally fast, almost like he's scared of something. I try to halt, pulling against his force and almost ripping my hand from his grip.

"Fakir, let go of me!" Finally, my hand slips from his and I fall hard on my ass, definitely leaving a bruise for the morning. My entire body shaking, I gaze up at him, a disparaging scowl running across his lips making him even more disturbing in the pale yellow moonlight. He, in lieu of explaining his actions, scoops me off the ground and begins jogging back to the boarding school. My body freezes as I recognize this situation. I know what's about to happen, and begin whimpering and crying to myself, begging him to put me down and let me go. He sets me down in a dark, urban alleyway pressing my back against the cold wall. I notice small tears in the corners of his eyes as he tries to keep composure.

"If you stop struggling for one second, I will explain." His voice is suddenly soft and gentle, like when we were alone. He tries to wipe away the tears that stain my cheeks, but I jerk my head back. He lets his head bow, and heaving out a long and shaky sigh towards the ground.

"What… What are you going to do to me..?" My voice cracks, my throat is sore from crying for so long that I can't even manage a normal volume. He looks back up at me, his face almost exactly how I remember from when we sat together; almost a sort of affectionate look, like my mother used to give to me before my father would come home. I feel my heart drop to my intestines, beating furiously as I am so confused and conflicted. His eyes are no longer narrow, his frown no longer frustrated, his eyebrows no longer furrowed. He looks almost like he's worried about me.

"You didn't hear Wayland, did you? During the intermission?" His hand removes itself from his face as he bites his lower lip and crosses his arms. I reluctantly shake my head as my tremors begin to halt.

"N-no… why?" He stands straight, turning his head back to the sound of stray people roaming the streets home. He grabs my arm in a fluster and we begin walking again, this time slower and where people can see us. He pulls me next to him, his arm wrapping around my shoulder instead of just gripping my hand. I still feel weak, but I trust him a bit more as I rationalize his character. Fakir is a cold, cynical, brutish man, but he's not one of those guys. He leans in close to my hair again, speaking with a flickering hint of urgency.

"He was talking about how much he wished you were the sylph and how she wouldn't be such a tease." His warm breath makes the top of my head hot. As we swerve hard into the school, and my tear stained cheeks flush back to their porcelain. He thrusts us both into the teachers dorms, leading me towards a door labeled "Fakir Andor." I pull back once more, my hands becoming slick. This time he didn't bother holding on, he just opens his door and enters, barking at me to stay right there. I fidget aimlessly, obeying his word without question. I trust him, even if it's only because he scares me and he could probably kill me if he wanted to. The rational part of me knows that is insane and would never legitimately happen, but my anxiety is still on high alert after what just concluded.

I find myself incessantly shifting in place for what seems like hours, but the clock close to the exit shows it has only been around three minutes, before he comes back out with a blanket, a pillow, and, what I assume to be, his pajamas. He walks in silence directly past me to an empty door. He glances over to me, motioning me to the door. I jolt from my place and sprint towards him, standing behind the closed and dusty door. Its wood is darker than everything else in the hall, giving it the most vintage look in the whole building. I stare at it before Fakir barks for me to open the door.

I push open the creaking door and stare inside, floating into the aged room. The smell of oak and dust ages the room all the more as I stare at the canopy bed, vanity, and two doors on either side of the bed. Fakir places all the things he had gathered onto the large bed. He closes the door and sits down on the bed, flopping himself on the bed, and staring up to the ceiling. I hesitate to sit next to him, but somehow I find myself beside him again. I look over at him, his eyes still drifting into the obsolete infinity of the ceiling.

"I hate that kid… I'm so glad you have no idea what he talks about in the boys classes," he pauses, his eyes gripping onto me. I furrow my brows, and Fakir continues with a long sigh.

"I guess it's only appropriate to elaborate. Just understand it's a bit vulgar; locker room speak and the like." He sits upright, undoing his hair and ruffling the top, showing the soft waves of a dark strands falling to the nape of his neck, glowing with orange tinges against the lights in the room. "He talks about how much he likes the way you look and the way you're..." He begins motioning towards my body and continues. "You. He tries to walk into the female classes to get exercises that he already has. I let it slide the first two times, but as soon as I noticed he was just staring at girls, I began locking the doors."

"So, he'd just try to… see us practicing?" I guess that's kind of weird, but not harmful. Fakir shakes his head again.

"Not just practicing. Look, you have to sleep. I know I'm the one who started this, but you just need to stay here. You need to sleep. I'll escort you personally to lessons and your room in the morning." Fakir stands, brushing off my comment. I huff, grabbing hold of his hand. He is going to listen to me and he is going to listen now.

"I want to know, and you can't avoid this forever Fakir. I'm an adult, I can hear whatever he says." My entire body is shaking and tears start forming in my eyes. Why did I even try to be assertive? I immediately regret my decision and let his hand go. My head points down and I can feel the tears starting to drip. My face is burning and my throat hurts from how insanely tight it feels. I choke down my anxious pain and shuffle myself into a door I correctly assume is a bathroom. I lock myself inside, still sobbing into my hands. He raps on my door, though I refuse to open the door.

"Ahiru, please open the door!" Another rap on the door, this time more firm. Not malicious, but immediately I feel my heart sink as though something malicious holds my brain hostage. Another rap on the door, hard enough to move me. Immediately I skitter back towards the bath, and hold my head in my hands. My blood begins to beat into my fingers and I can't hear anything except my own heart destroying the inside of my chest. I tremble as I hear the door creak open, only imagining him as he stands, fist unclenched and ready to drag me by my hair. Halting my crying, I instead stare up into the lifeless blue eyes of my father, his stoic and thin lipped smile reveal everything I need to know. He opens his mouth and a voice not his comes out.

It's a worrisome and almost loving voice that rings into my ears, reassuring words skitter all around me as someone sits beside me, their arm wrapping around my torso. Their voice isn't raspy from smoking and isn't heavy with cynicism, like my fathers. Instead a cool and gentle voice hushes me, reminding me that I am safe and not alone. I'm not able to calm down, though the body next to me is comforting, albeit feeling like something is wrong. I begin snuggling into them more, still whimpering and sobbing. They run their hands through my hair, continuing to tell me I am safe and okay. I shudder further, my tears ceasing and eventually becoming salty stains on my face. I feel my terror drip away, even if only when my eyes are totally shut, as I drift into what feels like the bed I sat on earlier.

Another dream about Fakir. The room is glittering white, and he stands there with his hand outstretched to me. I feel the need to take it, without much hesitation or care for what happens next. He pulls me close, and begins dancing. He holds his hand against my waist and keeps our bodies firm together, as we waltz throughout the ivory room. I feel almost like a princess as he presses his lips against my hair, because it's not a character in this world. He actually cares for me here. I can feel his hands graze up my back as I become one with him. Our feet halt and the break in our dance isn't the least bit jarring. His hands run over my cheek, pulling away stray hairs as he sits me down on a loveseat that wasn't there before. Fakir kisses me once more as though we are meant to be there together.

My eyes flutter open, cold sweat beading down my body as I tug the blanket further over me. My dreams are getting much stranger, and I can't place why… I don't have feelings for Fakir. No matter how much I try to convince myself of that, I can still feel my heart beating in my chest as the feeling of his lips pressed against mine still overwhelms my senses. Maybe I do have feelings, but they should be fleeting; at least that's the hope…

I stare back around the room before me. Confused at first I remember the happenings of last night. Somehow I had oversized pajamas on, though I don't remember how they got on my frail body. I think for a second about last night, before my entire body tenses up, realizing that Fakir probably had to clean pajamas over my faint and horrified body. I thrust my face into the soft and heavy comforter, trying to hide my shame as the fact he probably saw me nude is an embarrassment to me, and a death wish if anyone were to find out.

I sit straight in the bed, lifting the comforter from me as I toss my legs over the side of the bed. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts as they continue to pile in. In a small lump on the end of the room, I notice stirring, causing me to project myself backwards, hiding under the heavy comforter. His voice slips out, barely awake.

"Don't worry… It's just me…" Fakir's morning voice rings clearly as he finally stirs upwards. His piney, sleep deprived eyes open and, while not glaring, are definitely not in anyway kind. He's sitting with his back pressed against the wall, wearing the same clothes from yesterday, but unbuttoned and looser. My eyes linger on him for a moment.

"Why are you still here..?" I ask, pulling the blanket closer to my chest, eyeing him over for any strange inconsistencies in his composure. He sneers at me and turns his head towards the door, his face still stony and hard as he speaks back.

"Couldn't very well leave you after an attack like that. Nothing moral in that." He's very straight to the point, as usual. _How could he tell it was a panic attack? _Cogs begin turning in my brain, though I just roll my eyes and crawl out from the comfortable bedding, holding my pants up so he doesn't see anything further than my underwear. I continue staring at him, getting closer and sitting in front of him. I stare at him, eye to eye, trying to figure out if he's actually being sincere. I cup my hands against his face and squish his cheeks.

"What do you think you're doing?" His voice lowers, gripping onto both of my hands and pulling them away from his face and places them back at my sides. There were no cracks in his face. Nothing shows that he's lying to me. I continue to stare at him, furrowing my brows and questioning his entire demeanor. Same evergreen eyes. Same expression. Same everything. I pull myself away from him and stand back at the bed, thinking it over for a moment.

"Sorry, I'm just… not used to that sort of treatment." I stare back at him as he stands tall, gazing down at me and giving another kind smile before walking out the door.

"Don't worry. You aren't going to get special treatment from me." He devilishly beams, closing the door behind him. I furrow my brows, knowing already that's a lie with how he has been treating me as of late. With Fakir it's a bit hard to tell, though this time he seemed sincere and kind. A true rarity with him. I look around, grabbing my uniform, which he must have grabbed from my dorm, and throw it on before stepping out of the room with Fakir, his donated pajamas in hand. I feel his hands brush against mine, before taking the pajamas under his arm.

"Come on, we have to be speedy. I already made sure that the other teachers would know you have the day off for a private remedial lesson, but the other students might think something else is happening. And trust me, we don't want any rumors spreading. You especially." His tone is back to being cold and brusk, as usual, gripping onto my wrist and leading me through the vacant hall, before finding my room at the end.

"Thanks, Fakir. I do appreciate it." I try to touch his hand again, though he pulls it away.

"Don't mention it. I'll be escorting you to your classes from now on. I'll inform the other teachers once you're in the mess hall. I expect you to adjust your schedule." He starts back down towards the dance hall, and before I can say anything more, he's gone. I'm old enough to take care of myself. There shouldn't be someone who escorts me everywhere.

I groan, exhausted from the long night, only barely motivated to open my window and stare at the blue sky. Miss Canary settles herself on the windowsill as she chirps at me, her little head moving every which way. Watching her little wings spread, I feel her land on top of my bedding, staring me over and nudging my forehead. I give her a little grin as I sit up, grabbing food from the little bag I have and feeding her with the palm of my hand.

"Here you go, girlie." I sit myself up, laying out the feed on the sill before laying back down, reflecting on the kindness Fakir had shown me. _How strange_, I think to myself. _It feels like he actually cares about me._ Something I hadn't experienced in such a long time.

I reflect, laying on my bed and listening to the soft tweets of the birds beside me. My mom was the last person to treat me so kindly. I curl against the sheets on my bed, pulling open the drawer to my nightside table. I shuffle through the exercises from years ago before fishing out a picture I had kept secret from administration and my friends. I stare at it, looking at the young girl and her parents. All of them have strawberry hair, pale complexion, and friendly looking smiles.

I grin, though a grim reminder stares over my mother and I. I bite my lip, just staring over the picture and every little detail it holds that should have been a red flag. His eyes weren't even looking into the camera.

"Where were you looking..?" I murmur quietly to myself, not really wanting an answer. Miss Canary hops onto my chest and snuggles between what little breasts I have like a kitten begging for affection, tweeting loudly. I smile and gently rub her little head. She's another one of my closest friends, right next to Pique and Lilie; thinking it over, it's a bit strange to have a bird as a friend. I turn over to stare at the other birds who flutter away, Miss Canary included. I sigh and wonder just how long I've been laying here.

Long enough for Lilie to creak open my door and call me out to dinner. I stare over for a moment, silently watching her and her beautiful doll-like face beam and chatter at me about how lucky I am to have missed today's lesson.

"Oh it was horrible! Pique twisted her poor little ankle! I had to carry her back to her room, like a princess. She didn't like that much, but I thought it was cute," Lilie smiles widely, continuing to talk about Pique. After a moment or so, she turns her head behind her, before stepping into my room and softly closing the door.

"Ducky… Can I confide something in you? And you can't think differently of me!" I look at her, smiling kindly as I know nothing could change my opinion of her.

"Of course, Lilie." I pat next to me on my bed, offering her a safer space.

"Well…" She sits down next to me, her feet awkwardly shifting against each other as she opens her mouth, nervously playing with her golden curls. "Would you hate me if I told you Pique and I are dating?" Her voice quivers a bit as her eyes finally shift up towards mine, anxiously darting from one to the other. I think on it for a moment before softly patting her shoulder, and giving a small grin.

"Not at all. It's pretty cute, in all honesty. Just maybe keep quiet about it to other students." I watch as she lets out a large sigh and wraps her arms around me, squeezing me into a large and loving embrace. I hesitate for a second, before returning the affection.

"Ahiru, you're such a sweet girl!" Lilie releases me from her hard grip, before kissing both of my cheeks with her soft and perky lips. I smile, and stand with her, leaving my room with Lilie chattering ad nauseum about their year long relationship, how it started and everything after.

"There's something about her Ducky, she's just so amazing!" Lilie rambles about it under her breath, her cheeks turning red as she continues thinking out loud.

As we make it into the cafeteria, we both notice Pique. She starts walking closer to us, before Lilie sprints forward, pulling her into another deep and squeezing embrace. I smile and sit down by myself at our usual table in the back corner of the room, twiddling my thumbs as even I anxiously wait for them to come back. I feel a long and drawn out breath against my neck as I whisk around, staring Wayland in the face, all color draining from mine as I grip onto the table.

"Hey Ahiru," His voice is skeevy, slithering from his upturned lips. My hands grip the table a bit harder, sweat starting to slick my hands. Gulping down the lump in my throat, I try to smile back.

"Hey Wayland, did you need something..?" I can hear my voice crack. I notice Lilie and Pique as they stand together, walking closer, giving me both ample time and reason to cut the conversation short. I stand up, though he swiftly pushes me back down into place. I never realized how strong he is, my face draining further.

"Don't be like that. I just wanted to talk to you for a minute." His voice is laced with slime I have never heard from him before. I notice behind him are buddies staring over and smiling, cheering him on. He continues.

"I wanted to tell you that you're the most beautiful girl here, and I want to take you out sometime. If you'll give me a chance, of course," I feel my throat tighten as I can't answer. My entire body stiffens as his leg starts prying my thighs apart. I feel helpless, like when I was a child, letting this happen all over again, as I squeeze my eyes shut tightly.

"Get off of her!" Pique's voice rings loud as I feel Wayland being forced off of me. I hear him crash to the floor before coming to my senses.

"Jesus, dude! Can you not tell when someone's uncomfortable or are you just that stupid?" Pique tugs me close against her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around me. Wayland is seemingly caught off guard, staring up at all of us as Lilie stares me over, making sure I'm okay and reassuring me. Wayland stands up, staring down at Pique, trying to intimidate her. His hand reaches down to grab me, but Pique twirls me back.

"Don't. Fucking. Try." Pique grips onto me, and saunters away, with Lilie in tow. Either from shock or pure instinct, I let them just carry me to the teaching hall, waiting outside Fakir's room. Pique finally lets me go, allowing me to stand between her and Lilie. Glancing over at them, they let out synchronized sighs of relief. Their hands intertwine and I smile, letting the question pop out to try to ease everyone's moods.

"So, cat's outta the bag now, huh?" I let my eyes dart between the two beautiful girls as they anxiously giggle. Pique blushes a bit as she nods, noticeably squeezing Lilie's hand as she starts tripping over her words. Then Fakir walked to the door.

He looks between the three of us, grimacing at us. He demands answers for interrupting his lesson planning. Lilie recounts, rather quickly, the last 15 minutes to him. Fakir seems unphased, though I can easily tell he's aggravated just from the sheer brevity and force in his voice. He thanks Lilie and Pique, urging them to leave the room.

"I would like to get Ahiru's direct recollection, but thank you girls for bringing her here." He waves them out as they leave. The door clicks shut, and he starts frisking me.

"Did he do anything to you? Anything serious?" His voice is suddenly frantic, cracking his façade again ever so slightly. His hands grip onto my shoulders as his eyes lock onto mine. Somehow he seems even more scared than before, as he finally lets me go, clearing his throat and desperately trying to resume his composure as he continues looking at me. I stare up, silent as I shake my head. Fakir nods, staring away from me at this point, his hands reaching his sides in clenched fists.

Silence is drowning both of us in this cold room. I step back, remembering situations similar to this, pressing my back against the wall in the hope that there's enough room for him to get angry at me. Enough room to not get caught in the carnage.

I must've let some of my own façade of strength fade, because Fakir starts towards me, and I hold my arms up, knowing what's to come. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, putting my arms in front of my face. His hands grab onto mine, softly pulling them to my sides.

"Look at me. Ahiru." His voice is soft again. Something compels me to open my eyes, though it's less malicious and more compliance. My eyes open, staring up at him.

"I want you to walk with me, okay?" He lets go of my arms, though his hands linger against mine. I simply nod in response. He hastily scribbles on a piece of paper and leaves a note on his desk for the incoming teacher.


	4. Chapter 4

Fakir takes me away from the main hall, pulling me past the other teachers offices before stopping in front of Mr. Katt's room and explaining that he needed to have someone take over his class. Mr. Katt, while seemingly infuriated, doesn't have a chance to respond as Fakir pulls us both back down the hall to another room. An unused ballet room, it looks like.

"Why do you always flinch?" Even with a soft tone, Fakir still sounds angry at me. I try my best to avert my eyes, my mouth staying shut. His hand grips onto my face, forcing me to stare at him.

"Look at me, please, and answer the question." His voice is still soft, even though I can tell he's getting fed up with my lack of an answer. I feel the hot tears already running down my face as I struggle not to make hiccuping sobs. He continues pressing, his hand holding tightly to my cheeks. The mental capacity to hold back feels like an anchor on my chest, as my words dribble out slowly, forming a meek sentence.

"I-I… I c-can't… y-you wouldn't…" The sobs drown out any coherency in my voice. I can't even look at Fakir. His eyes seem to loosen up, as do his fingers, letting me sink to the ground and uncontrollably cry into my hands. My composure is gone.

I'm exactly how everyone remembers me when I first came here; a sad, scared, and tiny duck, left at the mercy of my own incompetence and inability to mask my emotions. My body slips down even further, going into the fetal position. The floorboards beside me sink in as Fakir sits beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and softly reassuring me of everything.

"You're safe. Don't say it if you don't want to." His words are soothing, though I don't start talking again, still just hiccuping sobs escaping my lips. I can't tell him. Not now, not ever. I had buried that Ahiru years ago in the ground with Mom. I shrug, leaning away from him defensively, just starting at the crow colored leotard he wears.

"W-why do you suddenly care..? You hate me Fakir… Everyone knows you do," I look up at him, finally questioning his motives. Fakir looks down, his gentle expression turning pained in a matter of minutes.

"I've never hated you, Ahiru." He runs his hand against my back, holding me like a dear old friend. "I know it seems like it, but I understand you a lot more than you'd probably like to know." As he keeps holding me close, I feel the beating of his heart against my arm. It was slow, peaceful. Something of comfort.

Fakirs hands pull through my braid, totally undoing it and running fingers through my hair. Maybe Fakir really does care. Maybe he does understand what it's like. Maybe I haven't been giving him enough credit. But it's equally as likely he's just trying to pry details off of me.

As we sit in the room together, alone and in the glimmering midday light, shining in from outside, I stare up at his face. He was so kind when we were alone, when no one knew where we were. I find comfort in resting my hands against his chest and snuggling my face into him. He smells kind of sweet, like a peach.

He rests his hand against the back of my head, giving a small and gentle kiss to my forehead. Platonic, sweet, something I could feel was genuine. He stands both of us up, turning me around as he begins putting my hair back up in my long, soft braid. His fingers manage to gingerly redo my hair, stroking it ever so kindly. Had he done this before?

"Ahiru. You need to promise me something." His voice is still pleasant, but cold and authoritative now. As I turn to face him and nod, holding my hands behind my back and cocking my head to the side.

"What is it, Fakir?"

"You have to promise that you'll be able to take care of yourself." Furrowing his brows, it's obvious he is not at all comfortable with the idea of this, but he continues, "Giving myself time to think, and discussing it with my colleagues, it's not right or healthy for me to personally escort you. But this doesn't mean that you're off the hook, or that you should let your guard down around people like Wayland, especially after what just happened."

He brushes my hair out of my face, small cracks of worry dripping through his façade. I smile brightly at him and nod enthusiastically as he continues staring at me, pokerfaced.

"I promise I won't disappoint you Fakir!" I beam, holding up my fists as though I had just triumphantly won a fight. He huffs a small chuckle, no doubt at how dorky I look. I give him one last small hug, nuzzling my face into his chest. Fakir is tall. Taller than I remember, actually, as he's able to rest his head on the top of mine. I feel him as his hand slides down my waist, his other positioning into mine, holding me tightly. My heart drops as he dips me back, smirking deviously above me.

"This isn't a harlequin novel, Ducky. Don't get your hopes up that I'm going to soften just because you've been in compromising situations. I'm no knight in shining armor." He lifted me above his head with almost no strain as I positioned my arms and legs, my body seemingly unreal to me once again as I'm positioned perfectly.

Princess Tutu.

She is what I call my 'alter ego' though I'm certain that isn't the right word for it. Whenever my passions are at an all time high, whenever I feel very strongly, my legs carry me, my body is fluid, and my dancing is impeccable. I feel my mind scream in panic as Fakir and I keep dancing, moving in sync with each other. His hands hardly seperated from my waist as he guided me. I could hear him mutter 'one, two, three... one, two, three…' from under his breath to keep us in step. Finally, he dips me once again. I feel his forehead rest against my bosom, sweat dripping down into the fabric. He looks up at me and smirks, setting me down on my feet, flat.

He stands straight once again, patting my shoulder and squeezing a bit, sweat dripping from both of us. I smile at him, trying desperately to catch my breath. My hands grip onto my hips as I stretch my legs.

"You've gotten much better… Much better…" He heaved, smiling at me. " Why don't you dance like that in class?"

I hesitate, clenching my fists, going over what I could say, what I could tell him. I stare up at him, though my mouth is practically sewn shut. He raises an eyebrow at me before rolling his eyes.

"Fine. Keep your secrets," he blows a couple gleaning strands of hair out of his face, "Just get back to your dorm then. Get changed, you have remedial in 30 minutes." He ushers me off and I trod off back across the courtyard in the direction of my dormitory. I let his words echo in my head. 'He's getting softer' I think to myself, giggling at my own little inside joke about a sweeter Fakir, who makes flower crowns and kisses babies. I feel my heart beat quickly in my chest as I think about that devious smirk. Something about the chisel of his jaw, the way he raises his shoulders a little when he smiles, that soft gentle look he gave me when we danced. His hands felt familiar, yet so distant, like it was buried in the back of my mind. I shrug, thinking nothing much of it as other thoughts come into my mind.

Two men stand at the gates of the academy. They're handsome, tall, and flirting with some of the freshmen despite being in their mid to late twenties. I cock my head, a bit confused as I watch them, stepping forward just to listen a little better. One of the men notices me, smiling and waving me over to them. I hesitate for a moment, feeling something sear in my gut that tells me I shouldn't give in. But my legs once again carried me towards them, the other girls smiling and giggling into their sleeves. Something about them seems familiar too.

Standing in front of them, I could feel my blood start coursing even faster. They were intimidating up close. I notice the soft wrinkles around their eyes and mouths, though their expressions seemed insincere towards us.

"What's a sweet little fox doin' over with the wolves?" One of them asked with a faux velvet tone. Leaning more onto the bars, he seems to be the more suave of the two men. The sun kissed blond hair and dark eyes that almost seem to glean mauve in the God rays. His jaw is chiseled, but his nose is gaunt and curved over. It seems not to fit on his face. I stand straight, thinking he looks much more like a Toucan than a Wolf.

"Just seeing what's going on. Nothing more," I try to confidently fold my arms, but the girls start giggling even more. The other, much older looking man is easily stroking one of their locks, (who I rather abruptly recognize as the twins from my remedial lessons) his fingers softly caressing their cheek as they swoon over his lovely tanned skin. The two men chuckle, starting over to me, my own reasoning loosening as I shrink down a bit, their large intimidating frames looming over me; jailbait to hungry prisoners, the only thing separating us is the bars in between. I feel the older one tries to pull his hand through my braid before I whip it back, gripping onto it and combing my fingers through the tufts in between.

"C'mon kitten, we're just here to make nice and talk to pretty girls," The leader nods his head to the two pretty freshmen who are still giggly and starry eyed. I stare them up and down, still gently shifting my feet back. His voice still has slime in it, no matter how genuine he seems. He leans his hand through the bars.

"My name is Victor." He continues, his voice softening. His other friend has seemingly gone back to tend to his own 'friends'. His hand still stays out from the bars, waiting for me to shake. I slowly reach my hand through and quickly shake hands with him as he smiles down at me. Something in those mauve eyes made me quiver, like he was a predator hunting prey. His friend, who had remained nearly silent aside from passing comments to the girls he was eyeing up, finally spoke.

"So, are all of your beautiful women dancers here?" He asks kissing one of the girls' hands, his words having such thinly veiled sexual undertones, you could cut it with a butterfly wing. I hesitate back again, but the other girls nod and smile, jovially responding to them.

"Oh yeah! We're all ballet students here! We've only been here a year, but Ducky has been here for five!" I glare over at the twins, my cheeks getting hot with anger. They sincerely could not have been that stupid as to give them that personal information. I let out a sigh as I furrow my brows, trying not to quack at them about school policy. Before much further discussion, I watch the two men begin bolting back into town, blowing kisses our way as they bid "Adieu!" I hear the gasps of twins before turning around myself.

Fakir. His face molded into a permanent frown in front of me. I feel my head begin spinning as all of this is so overwhelming. Fakir takes all of us by the arm, yanking us through the courtyard and into his ballet space. He paces around in front of us, his feet making the earth quake from below us. None of us had an excuse, all of us are guilty. Finally he looks up at us, glaring each of us down.

"I thought it was suspicious that not one, not two, but three of my remedial students hadn't shown up to class today." His voice echoes throughout the practically empty studio, ringing in my ears far harsher than it should have. I watch the twins start sniffling and tearing up as Fakir starts shouting louder. "I thought all three of you were smarter than to talk to strange men at the gates of the academy, but apparently you're not. You need to be treated like toddlers and escorted around the courtyard, am I correct in this assumption girls?" His voice was already starting to give out from how angry he was becoming. The twins are amidst a breakdown, and I can feel myself treading on the edge of one. But this time, I feel it is well deserved.

"Those men are a danger to not only you three, but to everyone in our school. Do you understand that? Do you understand the things they were going to do to you? The vile, horrendous things they were wanting to do?" Fakir finally stands straight in front of us, staring us down with his cold, unfeeling glare. "I'm going to have to report this incident to the Headmistress. She will take over the punishment and for your sake, I hope you've learned your lesson,"

He turned his back to us, staring at us through the mirror. It feels like it can shatter with just how sharp his glare is. I nod, solemnly accepting my fate, even at the shrill sobs of my classmates, begging him to do anything else. I hang my head low, terrified of what worse things he could do in this situation. The numbness sets in. That primal fear no longer can consume me as I feel my ears start ringing, the world around me becoming fuzzy as a familiar heaviness piles onto my chest. That familiar overwhelming strain on my lungs as I try not to cry. This wasn't what it was last night. This isn't a panic attack. This isn't a moment of fight or flight. It is a recollection. It is painful. It whispers memories from a place I dare not turn to.

The rest of that day is blurry. Some things didn't even exist in my mind. It feels like hours have been lost as I creep into my room, lying face down on my bed. Something rings hard in my ears. Voices. Fakir's shift between tones. The Headmistresses expulsion threats. Victor's sleek and mysterious voice. My eyes close and I creep into my blankets, I feel solace in the fact that we scraped by with barely a week long suspension. As the Headmistresses words sink in again and again, I drift into a dreary slumber.

Fakir… He carries me over the white landscape below, snow crunching beneath his feet as I'm held like a new bride. A large duckling colored dress I'm wearing crinkles against his fingers, as he lays me down in the painfully cold snow. As soon as I touch it, my dress changes. Mauve. Fakir begins backing away, his arms outstretched and his eyes closed. Head raised towards the falling snow. Looking behind him, there's a glint of dark silver, barely shining in the non-existent sunlight. My eyes widen as I realize it's a revolver. Aimed straight at him. I struggle to stand, to scream out for him to move. My dress gets heavier and heavier as the snow pillows on top more and more.

"Stop!" I'm awoken by the sound of hail cracking against my window as I scream in fear, sitting straight up in my bed. I feel the sweat pouring down my forehead. My body is still shaking fervently as I look at my clothes. My nightgown. My blankets. My bed. It was just a nightmare. Something still doesn't sit quite in my stomach, something just eating away at the enamel of my bones. The storm seemingly came out of nowhere, but I have to get away.

I pull myself out of bed, throwing on a long sleeved shirt, pants, and a heavy raincoat, and begin marching out into the storm. Opening the front gate is surprisingly easy as I start off towards an inn. The hail pecks at my scalp and starts bouncing off my shoulders painfully, though I keep trudging on. I feel eyes following me, but nothing else. The city is empty right now. No one dares come out in this weather. I hold my arms above my head before bursting into the Welcome Inn, one of the only two in town.

There, Mytho and Rue stare at me, along with every other patron inside. I am dripping wet and covered in melting hail, standing frozen in the living area. How I knew they'd be here, I have no idea. But Mytho recognizes me, smiling brightly as he walks up to me, giving me a big hug.

"Ahiru! It's been ages!" He sounds so excited to see me, something I genuinely didn't expect. His curly white hair, glistening gold eyes, and very muscular, cream colored skin all seem the same, but something about his personality… He was always so soft spoken in class, so gentle with his words. Here, he seems more loud and abrasive. I hug him back, confused but not unhappy. "How've you been? How's the academy treating you?" As he pulls away, his fluffy white curls bounce around his face, his golden eyes shimmering brightly, almost like a child's. Rue walks up to me as well, smiling and hugging me as soon as Mytho pulls away. At this point, everyone aside from us three are back to their own lives, chatting and laughing. I smile at them both, as Rue pulls away, she softly pecks my forehead.

"O-oh! It's been uh, okay?" I refrain from saying too much about my recent endeavors. I feel raw heat boiling in my stomach as I see the rings on Mytho and Rue's fingers, hands interwoven together. "I saw your guy's performance of La Sylphide! You guys did amazing!" I watch Mytho burn up like a lightbulb as Rue just smiles and laughs, burying his head into the crook of her neck.

"It was our last performance of the tour, so I think everyone felt it wasn't their best work. But thank you, Ducky. We all do our best on stage." Rue kisses Mytho's ruffled hair. It looks so soft, practically unreal as his eyes turn up, his face still burning with intense embarrassment.

"You should have seen us in Paris, Duck!" Mytho blurts, his face lighting up. He seems so different from when we were in the academy together. He was calm, collected, quiet. Here, now, still who I love, still who I feel strongly about. But something about that feeling makes the gears turn in my head. Mytho continues on, talking at length about how the people in Paris are just as beautiful as the city itself. How it felt like the peak of their performance. "They have my picture in the papers down there! 'Le Prince Du Ballet' they call me! The Prince of Ballet! Isn't that amazing?" He looks at me beaming brightly as Rue pats his back, smiling down at him with rosey cheeks and gentle eyes. They both fit together so beautifully. Like Yin and Yang.

"Wow, really? That's amazing!" It catches me off guard as he lifts me up and swings me around, smiling up at me. That smile, that raw joy was amazing to see in person, up close like this. He sets me down still excitedly bouncing as Rue kisses his forehead, calming him down a bit. He chuckles and takes my hands, looking down at me pleasantly. Rue looks at me and touches my shoulder, hey voice as soft and velvety as it was hey last year.

"Ahiru, would you like to join us until the storm passes? If not, it's no trouble, we just want you to stay safe." The storm is getting pretty raucous. And maybe it'd be fun to hang out with them. My heart still sinks to the bottom of my stomach as I catch them cuddling closer. Still, I chirp happily.

"Sure! As long as I'm not a burden or anything," I wipe off the remaining hail from my hair and shoulders as they lead me towards their private room.

"Nonsense love, you're like our own daughter, you're never a burden." Rue chimes back, starting down a long corridor to the left. "Besides, it looks like the storm might keep us in until later tonight, so it might be nice to have someone to lounge with." Mytho smiles walking behind her, just hand locking with hers again

"What? You don't like spending all your time with your husband?" He jokes, tugging on her sleeve and making her scoff. Rue turns around and smiles at us both as we reach their room.

"Ha ha ha, very funny, Mytho." Rue turns the key and pulls us into the surprisingly small room. A canopy king bed is the centerpiece of the room, with beautiful white sheets and black pillows. There is a small writing desk in the corner and a green chair to accompany it. Rue sits on the bed and smiles brightly at me. "I've heard Fakir has started teaching the intermediate ballet classes. Have you seen him around?" I feel my cheeks heat up, pulling off my coat and laughing it off. I feel Mytho and Rue stare at me, giggling a bit. "Has he given you trouble?" My heart sinks yet again as I try not to remember the look he gave me yesterday.

"Yeah, he's my teacher," I manage to stammer out, sitting down in the arm chair. "He's had girls clawing at him since day one." Rue and Mytho laugh.

"He has always been the handsome one, so that's really no surprise. I assume you haven't fallen for his stoic charm?" Mytho lays back on the comfortable looking bed, as Rue raises an eyebrow at me, watching me nervously fidget with my sleeves. I hear her gasp excitedly before rushing over to me and grasping my cheeks in her soft delicate hands. She is smiling widely, squealing before bouncing up and down.

"You like him, don't you?" Rue strokes my hair as her eyes glisten. I feel my heart beat hard in my chest. Like him? No! He has just been nice to me recently. Though I can't get those words out of my mouth, like there's cotton in my throat, and Rue takes it as acceptance of her theory.

She looks at me and kisses my cheek, bouncing up and down around Mytho as even he smiles and starts gleefully teasing me. I try to defend myself, but they both can no longer hear me as Rue stands me up and tugs me over to her large suitcase without much said between us. She rummages through the case before grabbing a beautiful unitard and pressing it against my body. It was a soft off white color, barely hinting at pink. Rue lights up further before ushering me into the bathroom.

"Show me when it's on, okay? I want to make sure it looks cute!" She giggles as she closes the door enthusiastically. I continue to stare at it for another few seconds, hoping it would look okay. It was easier to gaze at than the pure white of the school distributed unitards. Finally, I strip down to my underwear, before pulling on the snug unitard. The back was exposed, and looking more closely, the garment is covered in beautiful lace. Something that's definitely for performance, and not for training. I peek my head out from behind the door as I look at an excited Rue.

"A-are you sure you want to see it..? It's kind of embarrassing," I murmur, my hands almost shaking with nerves as even Mytho is excited. Both of them nod with rather large grins spreading across their cheeks. I open the door fully, squeezing my eyes shut as their eyes watch me. The anticipation is killing me, so I finally release a long sigh, opening my eyes to them, with Rue's eyes practically filling with tears and her hands covering her mouth.

Rushing to her, I try to calm her down. "I'm so sorry, I can take it off if you want, Rue!" I blurt, before she removes her hands, smiling brightly at me.

"Ahiru, you look so beautiful." She runs her fingers against my cheek before holding my hand, squeezing it affectionately. "Please, please keep it." Rue hugs me tightly, before Mytho hugs me as well. I hug them back, a bit teary-eyed as I feel like I'm being hugged by people who care about me. Who genuinely want me to be happy. I nod as they pull me away from their parental hug, smiling at me as they usher me to change into my clothes. I run back to the bathroom, pulling my clothes on over my new garment. As I walk out, the storm has seemingly passed, and the mid-afternoon sun starts to peel in through the clouds, though I know it won't last very long. Mytho smiles and offers to walk me back to my dorm.

"I might as well tease the old Katt, Fakir too. Want to come with, hun?" Mytho wraps one arm around my shoulder, with Rue agreeing to let us walk together.

"It's been a long day, and I need to rest. I trust that Ahiru isn't going to pull any funny business," She jokes, dabbing away her tears with a handkerchief. I gently smile, my brain ticking as it both wants to respect Rue, who is far kinder than in class, and wanting to be with Mytho as closely as she is. Though it seems like time has jumped as Mytho and I are walking down the street towards the academy. It has been quiet the whole time, before I finally manage to squeak out a small sentence.

"Mytho, I-I…" I try to speak up, though my voice fades into silence. He looks down at me, his arm still wrapped over my shoulder, keeping me in his chest. With his gentle gold eyes on me, I feel the words cascade from my lips.

"I love you…"


	5. Chapter 5

My hands are sweating and my entire body is shaking violently underneath him. We stop in the street as my eyes try to burst with unwelcome and anxious tears. I'm going to get rejected. He has married, he has a beautiful and loving wife, he has everything already settled in his life. I'm a nobody to him, just a child. A friend.

Mytho turns me to stare at him, though my eyes can't seem to open. He urges me to open my eyes, with his thumb rubbing against my cheek. It isn't a romantic gesture, it's less affectionate than that. But it's more intimate than that of friends. I open my eyes and stare up at him, his gold eyes glinting and his mouth pulled into a smile. It seems perfect at this moment. Mytho finally snuggles me closer under his arm, starting to walk again. "You're not very good at hiding your feelings, you know?" Even though his tone is jovial, I hang my head low, defeated. I nod slowly at his comment. He squeezes my shoulder very gently as the academy comes into view.

"I've known since we met. You were always at my performances. It was reassuring to have that," Mytho starts, his voice still smiling. "But you never approached me. It felt strange, I'll be honest. You were always there, and it felt good to have someone who supported me. I probably would have been with you if you had tried to ask me out." Mytho squeezes my shoulder again as we reach the gates, opening them. "You're very sweet and gentle. You are amazing when you do your best with ballet. And from what Fakir has written to me, you are very independent and sassy," I feel myself getting more nervous with each passing word. Fakir is telling Mytho about me? What could they possibly be talking about?

"R-really? What does he say?" I look up at Mytho, not sure if I want to know what Fakir thinks. Mytho releases his arm from around me, noticing Fakir, nose deep in a journal.

"Why don't you ask him?" I finally feel my heart drop, attempting to try and bolt back to my dorm, but Mytho calls out to Fakir, and I freeze up. His glare on me beats into me, an iron rod on my being. He turns his attention back to Mytho, smirking and pressing his journal under his arm. Despite his smile, hes still rigid and tense, shoulders risen, and sweat rolling down his forehead. Mytho smiles and they chat idly for a moment before I try and slip away from them both.

"Fakir, why don't you tell Ahiru about the things you've been writing about?" Mytho pulls me back, holding me close to his side. _Great, no way to escape now._ I watch Fakir's cheeks turn a light pink for no longer than a moment, but it was still long enough for Mytho to jab him in jest. "Maybe not _those_ things, but some of the other things."

Fakir's eyes drift back to me and he furrows his brows, almost hissing his words. "You're incompetent to the point of secondhand embarassment." Venom sinks under my skin. I turn pale and nod, before rushing to my dorm, breaking completely free from Mytho. It's very clear I'm nothing more than a speck of dust to Fakir. Every single kind thing was a sham. The world melts around me, and I slink inside my room, slamming the door shut.

This panic isn't warranted. Why does this hurt more? What about Fakir saying he hates me now so much different than the past times? I have always known he hates me. I have known for so long. But this pang in my chest is overwhelming. The soft feelings I started having for him were immediately shot down. I realize now that I'm just like every other girl in his class. I'm just better at lying than they are. I feel a fist beating against my door, Mytho's voice is speaking but the words aren't discernible through my sobs. I don't open up. I don't let him inside. I don't want the justification.

Three long days alone. No interaction aside from barely seeing Lilie and Pique for minimal lunch. This afternoon is different, though. I need to leave the academy again. My legs carry me out with little more than my knapsack, a pair of shoes, pants, and a long sleeved shirt. It's warm and no one can stop me. A look from across the courtyard pierces me, and when I glance back, I notice Fakir glaring me down.

I keep walking. He has no feelings for me, and I'm still suspended from the school. He can't control me. At least not now. I march off into town, towards the quiet serenity of the town library, somewhere I had never fully explored. I just want to clear my mind, or maybe even search for something. The inside of a rustic building smells like dust and sage knowledge. The sound of new books cracking open, and the soft hum of people breathing out of sync with each other.

I settle inside, gravitating towards the fiction section. I pull out an old story book from the top of the shelf, _The Prince And The Raven. _It was always a safe haven for me as a child, despite the relatively sad ending. It was about a Prince locking away an evil Raven, and shattering his heart as a way to keep the raven at bay. We did a ballet rendition when I was still a first year. I played a bit part, but it stuck with me.

Princess Tutu. I was the only one who auditioned for her part, but I put my heart into it. Mytho, Rue, and Fakir all noticed me, but none of them really seemed to care. It had taken weeks of working with them, almost to the point of working against them, before I finally managed to perfect my dance. In front of the entire academy, I managed to do something very few freshmen had gotten to do. And alongside the Prince of Gold Crown Academy, no less. The performance wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but it was nowhere near poorly done.

I continue reading the story at an empty desk, the words and pictures taking time to sink into my mind. Then finally, she appears; the princess. The six sentences that she inhabited still stick with me:

"And thus she helped to save the Prince's shattered heart. The Prince was thankful, but she had done her part. 'Who are you?' The Prince did ask, confusion clouded his mind. The girl smiled, and softly spoke 'I'm Princess Tutu, my prince, and I love you as though you were mine.' And with that, she disappeared, a single speck of light. And though the Prince was disappointed, he knew there was still a fight."

The story isn't over, but I close it anyway. Her existence was just depressing, to live and die for just one person. Everyone forgot her so easily. I stand up and place the book back on the shelf, though this time I feel a pair of eyes follow me out. I try and shake it off, even with a glance over my shoulder showing no one's looking at me. Treading out of the library, I slink back towards the open valley I had seen Fakir in. My heart thuds at the idea of him seeing me, though as soon as I enter, there's no one. A long sigh leaves my lips as I step into the field, and strip from my clothes. The plain white unitard the school had provided me looks so much more dull in the plains. Unzipping my bag, I pull out a long pink tutu. I let it hug my waist as I breathe in, pulling out the correct ballet sheets. I begin placing my feet down for _temps levé. _The soft grass under my feet still has a thin layer of dew, leaving the pads of my feet slick. Though even with this newfound issue, I still try to balance in my form.

Balance is lost almost immediately, and I faceplant into the grass, my mouth filling with the dirt and my face stinging as I pull back. Even so I try again. I feel myself quaking though I breathe in again, repositioning. My feet position, one behind the other. I try and lift my leg above my head in the air, though my knee crumbles as I try to land. I notice the green stains on my uniform and internally cringe, knowing I'll have to clean this as soon as I get back. Though I position one last time, toes and feet aching at this point. One more deep breath. I stare off into space, finally prepared to try. Though I see a familiar shape in front of me, peering in from the woods in front of me. His smirk is unforgettable.

"Well well well, if it isn't the little fox from behind bars. Decided to come out of your cage and perform a little show for me, did you?" Victor snarks, walking towards me. I quickly grab my knapsack and begin cowering back. I can outrun him at the least. He walks a bit closer, and I carry myself back, throwing my backpack over my shoulder as I try to find an easy exit. It's just him so it shouldn't be that hard to escape.

"What do you want?" I try and sound intimidating, though my voice cracks almost instantly. Chuckling, he is in front of me within seconds, circling around me as though I was a sick animal, ready to be devoured upon death.

"We started off on the wrong foot, don't you think? I just want to change the impression I made." He faces me finally, though not eye to eye. Towering almost two full feet above me, I can't really help but see him as a predator. "I'm Victor, and you are Ducky. That's all we really know about each other," He smiles and holds out his palm to me. I cringe back, his hand sullied with the actions I know he's done.

I hesitate, pressing my palm into his. "That's all you need to know," I start walking back out of the clearing, though I feel Victors arm wrap around my waist and tug me into him. I squirm a bit, though his fingers sink in.

"Take this as kindness, I'm going to walk you back to the school. If you keep wriggling," He leans down into my ear and growls. "You might not like the outcome, Duckling." I freeze, all color draining from my face. I nod and listen to him, if nothing else for my own safety.

"You're rather beautiful, you know that? You look so youthful in this little leotard of yours." He tugs at my strap and walks me towards Gold Crown. I whip my shoulder forward.

"It's a unitard." I say, still curt with him. He smirks and leans into me a bit more, kissing my cheek.

"Whatever you say. It makes you look older than you are. I bet you've never even had a boyfriend." I see the gates and my face lights up. I briefly nod, staring at the gates while staring at the students who are enveloped in their own lives. I manage to pull myself away from the Wolf, and into the school. I sprint towards my dormitory, needing to shower. I don't even care if that means other girls will see me, I just need to wash his hands off me. I can hear his barks from outside the campus, but I don't even care anymore. He can't hurt me here, in the academy.

I cram myself into my room and stare at the window, before grabbing the stash of bird seed that I keep under my bed. I open the window and lay out the food for them. I watch as my bird friends flutter in, eating everything I have. Their chatters and chirps make me smile. I wish I was a bird, I think to myself. A duck would be most fun, probably. I pet the top of one of the birds head, as he twitters and tweets about.

After my shower, I sit inside Pique's room. She had invited me in earlier, and I finally decided to take her up on it. I lay on her bed, groaning loudly at the ceiling. Pique doesn't even seem to be surprised by my groaning.

"Oh Ahiru, you're a dummy sometimes." She strokes my hair as I lay down and murmur. "Love is a tricky thing, and putting your love on someone who's unavailable." I look over at her, and furrow my brows. I think to retort back, but instead just rest my head on her lap.

"I don't think I love him. He's not my type, I don't think." She pats my forehead very awkwardly as I keep reiterating it. I don't think I like him. But I can't say I don't know, because I do know. I gave all my happiness to a couple brief moments of kindness, and naively thought he cared. Why should he care? I listen as Lilie enters as well, sitting up and listening to her dote on me, about how cute I am when I'm broken hearted like this. Not exactly comforting, but at least a bit more in line with normality. I finally lighten up a bit, as we begin talking a bit more about the upcoming _Pas De Deux _we have to do in class.

"Pique is going to be Juliet and I'm going to be Romeo! It's going to be great, and then we can actually kiss in front of everyone, and not get yelled at!" Lilie practically bursts into light at the mere mention of kissing Pique. I watch as Pique turns a shade of red, nervously reminding Lilie that it's just a performance, and Katt might become suspicious if they were to kiss in front of the whole class.

"Yeah but you also have to keep in mind that it's just a test to determine how well we can perform with a partner." Pique chirps, starting to pat my stomach now. I listen as they bicker over if they're going to kiss or not, but I zone out halfway through the argument. Images of Fakir creep into my mind, those cryptic words still prodding at me.

"You shouldn't trust me," He growls. I know I shouldn't. I should not have even given you the time of day to treat me that nicely. Getting my own hopes up just to knock me down and rub the dirt in my face. What did Fakir even know? I didn't want to talk to that guy, even. I know next class he is going to drill into me. I think over that phrase until an unsavory image sullies my anger, and I groan again, directly into Pique's stomach. I hear them both giggle, both petting my head and providing soft words of encouragement.

"You should practice in the hall, Ducky, or else you're gonna get rusty, and then Katt and Fakir will definitely send you back with the beginners classes." Lilie pats my butt very softly, before kissing Pique very gently and heading out to her own for whatever reason. I sit up and nod as soon as Lilie leaves. I think over a couple different dances I could do, before remembering _L'histoire de Manon. _It's still a relatively new ballet, but it's definitely worth a shot at trying. The hard part now is just finding a partner to try it with. Since I've been out of class for the last few days, everyone has already found a partner, meaning I have one of 2 options; I can either bum off someone else's partner and make them help me or ask one of the teachers to help. I'm sure they wouldn't mind, but none of them would be thrilled to help me. I heave out a long sigh.

"Did anyone not get a partner in the girls class?" I look over at Pique, resting my head on her shoulder. She shrugs and pats my back.

"Not to what I remember. We have an odd number of girls in our class, remember? You can see if Katt or Fakir will let you pair up with one of the boys, since they have the same assignment."

"But we aren't supposed to fraternize," I furrow my brow, grumbling as she raises an eyebrow to me.

"You think a teacher is just going to let you fail just to uphold a rule like that? You should be fine Ducky. Here, I'll even take you to ask." Suddenly, I'm being dragged out of the dorm by my wrist and directly to Fakir's office. I pull back on Pique's hand, slipping free. Some hot, unwanted tears sting in my eyes as I stare at her, still a few paces in front of me. I can hear the echos of distant memories shattering into the present, and I repress them more.

"I don't want to see him… I-I… I'll wait outside his office while you talk to him." I try and stand firm, but I feel my fists and knees shivering in fear. She takes a moment, looking over me, but she agrees and instead holds my hand gently, squeezing it very softly and non-verbally reassuring me. She doesn't know, but she's never had to know. She was always able to easily infer from my emotions what happened, and never pressed.

I sniffle and watch as Pique slips into Fakir's office. I stand idly by, barely listening to the mumbling from behind the door. Just from his tone, I know he's angry. He's gruff, strict, and straight to the point. I feel my body tremble, as I listen to Pique's steps towards the door. As soon as it opens, I can see Fakir glaring at me while Pique smiles at me, trying to be sweet to me, though the pale cheeks and tense composure are a dead giveaway. "He'll allow it, but he only has one student left in the boy's class," She pauses, before opening the door a bit more. "Fakir said he needs to talk to you privately about it, though."

Every drop of blood sinks to the lowest level of my body. I have to drag my feet across the floor, forcing myself to stand in the tense room as Pique closes the door behind me. I can't even look at him. I hear him bark at me.

"You're in luck. You and Wayland are both in need of someone to perform the _pas de deux_ with." I feel my throat tighten, the words barely whispering out.

"Aren't I supposed to be staying away from him..?" I try and retort to his point, still cowardly avoiding his eye contact. He slams his fist against the desk, and his eyes press me down back against the door.

"I know what I said." He grits his teeth, and peering up for that second I can see the malice and pure disgust in his eyes. "But I can't very well let either of you fail this class. You both need to practice together, under my supervision. If I catch one of you stepping out of line, there will be punishments on either side." He continues with his paper, writing something frantically down on a piece of paper. I feel my back shrink against the door, though I agree, mousey and quiet as usual. He waves me off. "Now get out of my office. I have lesson plans."

In Piques arms, we step inside the beautifully vast library, dancing around the empty room by ourselves. She is the Black Swan to my Rothbart as we dance here. Her dancing has always been calculated and firm. We stop and stumble, just laughing with each other. I haven't hung out with her in a bit and it is nice of her to spend this time with me. She and I sit down at one of the many circular tables, still giggling. I look over at Pique, smiling a little wider, despite a sharp pang in my chest as Fakir's dark glare harrows in my mind.

"Hey Ahiru?" Pique speaks up a bit, looking over at me before staring up at the ceiling, hardly blinking as she thinks.

"Hm?" I respond, leaning over the table a bit, trying to read her body language. She's still relatively open, though I can tell she's about to ask something uncomfortable as she furrows her brows.

"What actually caused you to come to the academy? I know you said your dad is just paying the tuition, but why don't you ever talk to him? You've been vague about it since we became friends." Her dark blue eyes stare me down, cutting to my core and sending a shiver through me. I slink down a bit, trying to find the words. After a minute of gathering courage, I finally gaze back at her.

"You promise not to tell?" The books hold so many secrets, that I know they can keep another. Pique nods her head, intently watching me.

"I guess it was just… My dad had too much on his plate and decided that it would be better if I was in a school for ballet. My mom was really nice, but she just kind of disappeared when I was ten." I start twiddling my fingers, sweat staring to bead down my chest and arms. "She didn't leave, she just… stopped existing, essentially. She was erased, almost. Dad didn't want her around, so she wasn't around anymore. We were wealthy enough to do that," I try and laugh it off for a moment, though I can tell Pique is a bit distressed by the sound of my story.

"A-anyway, my dad just wanted to erase me too around the same time, so he's sent me to this school with the hope that I'll either get famous enough for him to love me again, or to just pay my way to leave him alone again." I close, stiffly laughing at the sheer darkness of my situation. Pique hugs me tightly into her, as her voice booms throughout the library.

"Oh Ducky, that's so sad! Why didn't you say something earlier?" The loud shushing from the librarian on the other side of the room, making Pique shrink down swiftly. She asks again, but quieter. I shrug, trying to stay positive.

"It just didn't seem relevant, honestly. It was just something that is a part of me." I smile at her, walking back towards the dorms. She hugs me closely as we keep walking, listening to her coos and attempts to comfort me. Leaving her at my door, I just hug and leave her off for the rest of the afternoon. I go back into my dorm, continuing my feeding routine for my birds before laying back down. I listen to the singing of the birds as they chirp and flutter in and out of the window. There is something about telling her that blatant, boldface lie that hits me hard in the gut.

Mom didn't disappear, she just died. She died when he was done with her and when he wanted it done. He was cruel to us once he started gaining all that money. What happened to his kindness? His gentle spirit? What made him so angry all the time?

Questions keep burning in my head, ones that make me so frustrated I can't even be angry about them. I am just so confused by every little detail that seems out of place. Every little inconsistent kindness, or gesture towards me that wasn't belligerent or malicious becomes an intense dissection into his character, that leads to a rabbithole of more confusion.

I remember when I was three, there was a small family of ducks outside in the pond close to our house. Mom and I had been watching them paddle and swim around. I remember falling and hitting my head at some point. I was sobbing as my mother tended to me and the little scrapes I had on my hands.

"Oh, Aniela, whatever shall we do with you?" My mother cooed at me, petting my hair. I looked up at her, sniffling with tears trailing down. My father glared down at me from over my mother's shoulder, scoffing.

"She's clumsy like a duck, nowhere near an angel," He gruffly stated, turning away from us and heading into the manor behind the woods.

And on that day, I was suddenly Duck. Ahiru, is what my mom changed my name to, so I would be less ridiculed by the others around me. It was pretty, still close to mine. But it wasn't me.

I stare at my hand as it waves towards the ceiling, knowing eventually I will forget about Aniela, and she will fade into the memories I have lost of my childhood. But right now, I hold onto that name for dear life. I hold it close in my heart, since it's the last thing about myself I get to keep. Away from him, from Fakir, from Pique and Lilie. Everyone.


	6. Chapter 6

The day presses on, no matter how slow it may feel. I sit up from my moping session and gather enough courage to actually try and get stuff done. Through a tedious series of events, I manage to tidy up my extremely dirty room, wash my unitard, and take time to actually brush the knots out of my hair. It feels like a long few hours before the full mass of thick orange hair is sufficiently brushed out, and my arms feel like that of a bodybuilder afterwards. Looking outside, I notice there's still daylight to burn, surprisingly.

Managing to slink into an empty ballet room is much more difficult than I think, though I slip past Katt, Fakir, and Headmistress Samiel without them either noticing or caring. My unitard is still a bit damp, and clings a bit more to my body, but it's nothing I haven't had to deal with before. It's quiet enough to echo the soft padding of my ballet flats as I tiptoe in, watching from out the large floor to ceiling windows.

I lean against the bar, starting to stretch every small crook of my body. Something inside sears in my gut and my body starts moving with the rhythm inside my head. Sleeping Beauty, I remember. My feet and body carry me, as I hum the piano chords that play so loudly in my head. My eyes are closed as I keep dancing by myself. Princess Tutu is now in control of me, and I feel the world slipping about. As my eyes are still closed, I can feel a vague figure guiding me along. Firm hands sway with my waist, dancing me around the room. I feel soft lips graze against my neck, keeping me still, completely stable. There's something sensual about the dance we share, though I can't find a reason why. Then it hits me who is dancing with me.

Fluttering open my eyes, I stumble and my feet crack down from my state.

"Shit!" I mutter, my ankle having rolled from under me. It stings and sears, but it's nothing intensely painful. I glance around the room, hoping to see someone who had been dancing with me, though there was no one. Nothing. A ghost of my mind had been dancing with me, someone who had reminded me of him, the same person in all those dreams.

But it is no one. It is just me, by myself in a ballet room. The same one Fakir took me into when we danced alone. When he let loose my hair and brushed it with those gentle fingers of his, making me feel safe and at home. Making me feel loved. I sigh and keep practicing until my forehead begins to sweat and my muscles burn harder than ever before. Every little painful movement after is just a byproduct of my dedication to practice.

I'll show Fakir, I think, my flushed and sweating face twisting into an excited smile. I'll be able to skip the Pas De Deux and not have to work with Wayland. I feel my stomach stir, though I can't seem to find motivation to eat. It's queasy from some gut instinct that I can't place. As I'm walking back to my dorm, it's practically agonizing with each step as my muscles ache.

"Ducky!" I hear Wayland's voice crack as a large arm wraps around me. I freeze, almost toppling from the sheer force of him grabbing onto my frail and tired body. His breath is hot on the side of my head. I try to skitter away, though his hands hold onto me tightly, enough to make me freeze. Almost exactly like Victor did. He leans down and stares at me, beaming.

"I saw you dancing up there! You look way nicer when you dance. But I bet I'd be able to help you a lot more," his hand slithers down to my waist as he keeps us rooted by the Cork Board. I smile weakly at him and try to back away, inching towards my dorm. He still has his hand against my waist, keeping me close to him.

"Oh, well thank you, but I really need to get going! Have to practice my Pas De Deux, you know," I try to divert his attention and slip away, though I realize I might have just utterly ruined my chances of leaving. He just grips tighter and chimes to me, admitting he knows what Fakir said. His words twist in gross, sly ways that make my stomach turn more than it already was. I wriggle out from underneath him, and stare at him from below. There's a thick scent of cologne on him that nearly overpowers me to the point of passing out; it feels strong enough to be chloroform, as my already weak knees wobble even more. It reminds me of something primal.

"Come on, Fakir wants us to practice. We can't do it in private, no matter how much you want to." Wayland snaps me out of it, pulling me towards the ballet hall again as I catch a glimpse of Fakir gliding in through the doors. I tighten up, my entire body completely stiff as again Wayland just drags me inside.

Up the stairs, he drags us to the same room as Fakir. He's leaning against the wall in a standard long sleeved blue shirt and black pants, his hair pulled back into his standard long ponytail. He looks at us as we enter into the room, eyes locking with Wayand and me. Disgusted to be in the same room with either of us. He waves us off, asking us to do whatever we can with the time we have. I nod and Wayland and I begin practicing. We discuss for less than ten seconds as Wayland is set on La Sylphide. Of course he wants that one, out of every single Pas De Deux he could have chosen, it was that one.

Wayland and I have been practicing for four days at this point with Fakir chaperoning us. We get into position as we usually do, and begin dancing. I see Fakir in my peripheral, just watching us in silence. I turn my head to look at him and our eyes lock for a few seconds. I try and grin at him, though he keeps stern at me. Waylands hands were touchy before, but now it's even worse. His hands feeling me up as I'm pressed against him, his hands squeezing parts of me that make me shudder in fear. Wayland lifts me into the air, and I feel his hand grope and start stroking his fingers against my crotch, trying to pull my unitard away. He hadn't ever gone this far in the past days. I panic immediately, causing me to frantically squirm and wiggle, falling to the floor with a very hard thud. Fakir is going to yell at me for not putting up with it, and I feel the fear starting to fill my stomach like syrup.

Tears begin welling in my eyes, and I whimper, whether that be in fear or in pain, it's not clear to me. I feel violated as his hands still somehow linger around and on me. It hurts worse than the fall, and I can't help but try to not show weakness. Fakir kneels down beside me, looking me over.

"Are you hurt?" He hushes me, his voice still cold towards me. Wayland scoffs at him and folds his arms.

"She was squirming too much, I couldn't help but drop her, it's not my fault," Wayland huffs. "She needs to learn to be more still during practice, or else I won't be able to hold her. She always gets like this when we dance," His voice is bitter and I feel his venom sinking into my skin. Fakir stands, and I notice how red he is, scowling at Wayland, fists balled like he's about to punch him.

"You do not get to molest my students two weeks in a row and blame them for your disgusting behavior!" Fakir screams at him from the top of his lungs, tearing into the echoing ballet room. I turn to stare at them, watching Wayland leap back, white as a sheet, from the booming of Fakir's anger. I can feel it resonate off of him and I skitter back, terrified and panicked. "You do not have any right to assault and berate my pupil's, and act like you can get away with it."

Fakir grips onto Waylands shirt, staring down at me and demanding I don't move, dragging Wayland out by the collar and slamming shut the doors. I listen to Fakir, just anxiously holding my knees to my chest, whimpering and sniffling into my now tear stained white tights. It feels like half an hour before Fakir comes in, kneeling in front of me and pulling me into a very tight hug. The waterfalls are finally let loose. All of my emotions soak into Fakir's shirt as I tremble and weep into him. His hands hold tightly to my back as he doesn't say anything, just holding me comfortingly in our bubble. Something about his scent isn't overpowering or discomforting. It's peachy again, sweetly intoxicating. Safe and gentle.

Finally pulling back, I stare at him with red eyes and tear stained cheeks. He still looks stoic though less angry. I run my hand against his cheek, smiling nervously.

"I have to stop crying in front of you. It's embarrassing." I sheepishly whisper. He finally cracks a smile, rubbing his cheek back against me. He shrugs, leaning a bit closer to me, his head tilting ever so slightly.

"It's okay. You can't control your emotions." He almost hums with how sweet his voice is. My chest starts throbbing as I lean forward towards Fakir. I feel almost hypnotized as he pulls me into his orbit. He presses a finger against my lips, smiling at me and instead kissing my hand. He stands me up with him, wrapping his jacket over my shoulders. I lean against him as he walks me through the school grounds, tracking back to that room we spent together on that night. It still smells like dust and aging wood, but I feel comfortable. I lay down on the bed, snuggling into his jacket. It still smells like peaches, I realize. Fakir pats my head, walking out of the room without another word. Probably getting blankets or something. I try and wrap myself tighter in his jacket.

Was I violated? Was I really the one at fault? Questions start flooding into my mind, a locomotive crashing at top speed into a cement wall. I feel my thighs ache and my fingers feel numb. Something is wrong with me, isn't there? Wayland was weird, but he wouldn't have done that if I hadn't done something. I curl up further into Fakir's jacket, feeling at least a little safer. It's warm, and cozy, and I curl up into it, closing my eyes for just a second.

Fakir returns to the room with a spare set of female pajamas, setting them down on the bathroom counter. He rests in the armchair beside the window, pulling the blinds tighter than they already were. His expression is curt, seemingly angry with me. Unwrapping his jacket from myself, I hold it towards him, though he rejects it.

"Just keep this for right now," he groans at me, pulling out a journal I hadn't seen before and starting to scribble. I nod, not wanting to disturb him, laying back against the bed.

"So why are we here again?" I ask, my voice cracking, almost making me quack. "Nothing happened. I'm not in any danger, Wayland didn't do anything wro—" Fakir's hand covers my mouth. He's staring down at me as he holds my lips shut. I stare up at him, shaking myself away from him. His glare pushes daggers into my chest. We're silent for a couple moments before his hand moves away from my mouth, standing straight again.

"What that rat did was deplorable. I stood by for too long and watched you get uncomfortable for no reason, other than to console my own consciousness." He moves back to his chair. "What that was, was assault. And I'm sorry I let him continue on." He continues scribbling in the journal, his disposition deteriorating from his typical hardass nature, to what he was before. In the nature that surrounded us that warm spring morning. Sitting up on the bed, I notice Fakir shift his journal away from me. Furrowing my brows, I pull off the jacket and feel one of the clingy straps of my unitard fall to the side of my arm. He doesn't notice and I don't care.

"It's okay if I get hurt Fakir, it happens a lot more than you think." I rub the inside of my thigh, adjusting my tights. Fakirs head perks up for a moment, still scribbling. He seems phased by this, somehow. I keep going.

"Fakir, I know you're worried about me, but this is the least of my problems. It was my fault that I got dropped, even if Wayland was being gross, I shouldn't have squirmed." I watch Fakir stand, tilting my head up to face him. Those forests are welcoming again. He shakes his head at me.

"I hope you know, it's never your fault what others choose to do to you, Duckling." The words are soaked in sugar, they sound so sweet. I want to reach my arms up and kiss him, just to taste where they come from. My hands hesitate for a brief moment but I keep them clutched to the bed. I can't kiss him. I know he doesn't want me like that. He sits beside me, continuing to write in the journal that's practically overfull with his words. I want to ask, to pry a little into what he's writing. But I don't. I just watch the end of his pen twitching and running across the page, gracefully. I manage to get a quick glimpse of his page, though in my mind I can hear him say it, gently.

"There's nothing more I'd like to do than to simply hold you close, stroke your hair and tell you goodnight,"

I stare up at him, getting a bit closer, until our thighs touch. I feel his hand graze against my leg, pulling me close to him. I can't help but pull myself into his lap, watching him set down his journal. His hands glide up my back, feeling inches of me I've never known existed. He starts kissing my neck, hand dipping down my strap even further, exposing my chest.

"Do you know what you're getting yourself into, Aniela?" His lips graze against my snowy skin. I shiver as he says that, nodding my head. But I realize…

"How do you know my name?" I look at him, confused and nervous. His hands pull up to my hair, undoing my braid, mouth still kissing my breast. I twitch as he bites me, stroking his hair. I ask again, louder.

"How do you know my name is Aniela?" He tilts his head up, his smile no longer kind. No longer gentle. No longer what it was.

"I know more than you can ever truly imagine, Aniela," his teeth look sharp as he opens his mouth wide, ready to bite into me before my eyes flutter open.

I'm still wrapped in Fakir's jacket, but it's a bit darker now. Dusk was brushing up on the mountains, sending long and shimmering stripes of pink, purple, and orange bursting through the sky. As I gulp air into my lungs, I notice Fakir sleeping in the bed, still in his day clothes as his chest rises and falls slowly. I crawl closer to him, hoping not to cause a stir. He doesn't move as I lay beside him, listening to his heart. It's slow, methodical, peaceful and on time. His arm wraps over me, murmuring something as I'm pulled into his chest.

I pull my braid out, letting my hair flood my half of the bed in red cascades. I gently hum an old lullaby into Fakir's chest, hugging him closer to me. An hour or two must have passed with us just laying in the weaning dusk light. I feel as I almost fall asleep again, he finally wakes up.

I see his eyes creak open, staring at the tired little girl beside him. He's not angry or happy, he's just staring for a moment. I must look like a child to him, with my round face and bright blue eyes, my tiny frame doesn't help either. His hands stroke my cheeks and my hair, comforting me a little more from my nightmare. His hand quickly moves to my cheeks, squeezing them tightly and making my lips pucker to an extreme amount. He's back to normal now, I assume.

"I don't recall you falling asleep here. What are you doing?" Fakir grimaces at me, his eyes narrow as he sits up, fixing his ponytail and clothes. I huff, crossing my arms and turning around, tangling myself in my own threads of scarlet.

"You looked lonely and I was cold and I didn't think it was weird! It's just a hug and that's normal when you're friends with someone!" I shout into the waterfalls of red hair. I toss and turn just making it worse. I feel as Fakir pins my chest to the bed hard enough to keep me from moving, but not enough to completely immobilize me. Just enough to halt me on the bed from my frantic spasms.

"Stop wiggling. It's pathetic." I feel him start gently untangling me, his hands brushing against my thighs and chest as he mutters out rather aggressive sorry's, before I'm completely untangled. I thank him very hesitantly, though I still smile at him with kindness. He stares at me with those gentle forests, caught off guard by my smile it seems. "If you're just going to patronize me, I'm leaving you here." Though I feel my fear rising in my throat, watching him turn towards the door and grip the knob, starting to turn it. An immediate compulsion fills my stomach.

"Wait!" The words leap out. I feel my stomach burn, but he lets go of the doorknob and looks at me.

"What is it?" He demands, leaning against the door and watching me. A helpless little duck staring up at an angry hawk. Any wrong word and he would eat me alive, every little fiber of my being obliterated if he really wanted it to happen. I feel unbidden tears trying to brim in my eyes as I speak, though I manage to halt them.

"Why are you so mean to me all the time? You've been meaner than usual and it's really unfair! I know I haven't been doing my best but, I'm trying okay? I'm really, really trying my best and you've just been an asshole!" I watch as he stares down at me, still stoic and harsh looking. The tension between us starts rising, getting higher with each second. I try and stand my ground, trying not to flinch at him, though I know he can see my fear. He knows what happened last time I got scared enough to yell. He leans over to stare at me, sighing tiredly as his hand pushes back loose strands of my hair, causing my cheek to twitch in fear. His composure finally loosens completely, and he sits next to me, no longer the gruff teacher, the ruthless upperclassman, the bitter knight. Something about him seems completely different, like a switch has been flicked. The bags under his eyes seem far more obvious, and he seems very fatigued now that he's close to me.

"Is that so?" He sits beside me, his voice velvety and sweet, staring off into the wall, avoiding my eye contact. He doesn't want to see how pathetic and scared I am, and I don't really blame him. I slowly nod and sniffle a bit. My composure deteriorates just as fast as his does, my skewed emotions now affecting every small fiber of my shivering body.

"You've been nothing but a total meanie for the past couple days, and it really hurts." He wraps his arm over my shoulder, pulling me into his warm chest. His fingers run through my hair as he nods along to my voice, his mouth presses against the top of my head and I feel him press down. A kiss. A warm, loving kiss to the top of my head. Different from the one he gave me after the ballet. It was gentle and yet filled with this overwhelming feeling.

"I guess you're right in that aspect. I've been the world's biggest jackass to you," His words slur with how tired he is. He's almost drunk with sleep it seems. His facade is draped down even more and he feels real for once. "It's very hard for me to admit things that make me uncomfortable, especially when it comes to how I feel."

Something burns in my cheeks as he pulls me into his chest, embracing me tighter than anything I've ever felt. There's a nostalgic comfort in his arms, like it's something I've craved for years. He stands me up, starting to waltz with me as our feet glide around the room. I don't really understand what's flipped this switch in Fakir. He looks down at me mid waltz, smiling at me in his kind and giggling stupor. I hold my hands against his shoulder as the question finally pops out from my lips, no matter how much I wanted it to stay in my mind.

"Why are you always so much nicer when we're alone?" I lean my head against his chest again. His heartbeat is still slow and peaceful, but it's less methodical than before. It seems like he's more loose now, more comfortable with me in our little moment in history. I'm not entirely sure this isn't another dream, but I don't want it to be. I want this to be the fairy tale where the Knight and Princess Tutu fall in love.

"I thought that was kind of obvious," His hand leads my chin closer to his face. I feel my heart begin to pound as I realize what's happening. I don't understand why he would want me, but I don't have time to think. I don't really want to think right now.

His lips press against mine. They're soft, and gentle as we kiss a bit further into each other. Fakir holds me against him, one hand gently holding the back of my head closer to him. It's sweet getting to taste his lips as he pries my mouth up, and I can taste some of that sweet peach flavor. His tongue is soft and playful as it touches my more tentative and nervous tongue. When he pulls away and stares at me, I watch as he smiles. He kisses my forehead again and lays in the bed, slipping under the blankets in his sleep drunken state.

I stare into the ether for a long moment. It's so surreal to me. My first kiss was taken by Fakir. I feel like I should be angry at him, maybe even devastated that it wasn't Mytho. But those emotions don't come out at all, instead this feeling continues to be warm and jovial. I can hear as he has fallen asleep, and I slip into the bed beside him, confused though not opposed to these new feelings I suddenly have. Is this what romantic love is? I think about it for a moment. This isn't how I used to think about Mytho, so it can't be. I loved Mytho. I close my eyes again, hoping this time to have a better dream.

The bitter air pinches through my unitard, stripping me down to my bare, exposing everything. I try and cover myself from the cold, though it's rather fruitless. Two towering figures crane themselves over me, their jaws open like wolves, ready to pounce on me. I feel claws up my back, trying to tear me open. I scream as they start chanting for me to come out. To show them myself. As I finally am torn completely open, a small duck stands instead. I watch their jaws opening wide enough to swallow me whole, ready to swallow me in my pathetic entirety. But I watch the figures be slashed in half. A knight with a broadsword standing behind them as his blade is now coated in a thick layer of their black shadowy forms. The knight smiles and leans down picking me up and holding me to his chest.

In the dark and early morning, I find Fakir sleeping in a chair in the corner of the room. I sit up and yawn, looking at him as he sleeps. He looks so sweet and peaceful in that chair, kind of like he did in the ballet room with me. Flashes of last night start flooding into my mind and I instantly melt back into the bed. Something about that sweet taste of his lips is still on mine.

I stand up, walking into the bathroom and looking around for a spare set of clothing. Inside one of the dusty drawers, I see an old males uniform. Despite it being a medium sized boys uniform, I disrobe and pull on the two sizes too large white undershirt, as well as the surprisingly fitting pair of boys boxers, though when trying to pull on the pants, I realize the belt doesn't notch tightly enough to keep them up. I huff, continuing to try to fiddle with it to keep it all the way up, but unfortunately nothing manages to keep them, causing mental chaos as I now try and hold my pants in place. I let them fall down in defeat, too frustrated to even try anymore. My hair is still messy and unraveled, so I start rebraiding it. My hands glide through strands, much like when my mother used to do it, humming along to the lullaby she made for me.

"With an angel like Aniela,

It's a miracle there's sadness.

With a mommy just like Malandra,

It's perfect that we have this!

With two lovely birds,

Sitting in a window sill,

We can sing our birdy song.

And forever we will!"

I giggle as I finish braiding, the little melody finishing as well, flipping my hair around, making sure it won't fall out of the braid. I slip back out into the bedroom, trying not to be as loud as I realize I might have been. Though Fakir already seems awake, and I watch him staring at me from that armchair. He's less tired now, and I can feel his bitterness searing into me. His legs are spread apart, fist pressed to his cheek, and his dark hair wraps around his neck, shoulders, and over his eyes.

"Who is Aniela?" He asks; direct, firm, and to the point. "You said that name in your sleep as well." I flush as white as my shirt, unsure what to even say. I fumble with the bottom of the shirt, tugging it down a bit as I nervously try to lie.

"W-well I dunno really, I know it means angel and my mom always talked about angels and it was really just from that song she used to sing me and—" Fakir stands and cuts me off.

"Don't lie to me. If you don't want to say it, don't say it," he seems angry at me, and I bow my head a bit in shame.

"Yes Mr. Andor," I murmur under my breath. I watch his demeanor shift a bit more.

"You don't have to call me that in private, you know. We've known each other for years, moron," he sits down on the bed, finally observing my clothes. "Where did you find that dreaded old thing?" I shrug, pointing at the bathroom door.

"In there. I was looking for something other than my unitard since I had been wearing it for a while. It doesn't fit though. The only thing that does is this shirt and the boys underwear." I shuffle onto the bed sitting and talking to him. Red flourishes in his cheeks as I watch him look away from me, closing his eyes as well. I cock my head at him before looking down, noticing that one of the top buttons either came undone or broke off, leaving parts of my chest exposed. I wrap my arms over my chest swiftly, covering as much as I can. Looking away from him, I ask.

"You saw?" My voice squeaks a little, as he coldly responds.

"No. Why aren't you wearing the spare one I got for you?" He points towards the dresser, and I notice the girls uniform neatly folded on top of it. I look from him to the uniform, before strolling up and grabbing it.

"I was distracted last night and I didn't see it."

"Clearly, you were. You slept almost the whole time," Fakir stands and smirks at me. "What was it you said? 'I'm a meanie?'" I furrow my brow, huffing and resting my hands on my hips.

"What was it you said? 'It's very hard for me to admit things that make me uncomfortable'?" I mock him though I watch his face burn up as I realize he had almost certainly forgotten about last night as well. He sits back down in the chair, glaring at me again. There's a long silence between us before I finally break it with an apology.

"Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong," he pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, his eyes squeezed shut. I can't help but feel guilty, sitting on the bed, curling up my legs to my chest. He's going to yell at me now, isn't he? The sheer heaviness in the room builds before he stands again, my hands instinctively covering my face as he walks towards me.

"That was a fluke in a tired stupor. Don't take this as any admission of weakness." He glares at me, pulling back my hand as the moon starts to set over the hills, his voice brusque and mean as usual. The sun isn't even peeking out yet, but I feel a glowing warmth between us. He stands me up on my feet and leads me to the restroom, before closing the door. "Now get changed. You're being burdensome in those open clothes." His cheeks lessen their pink and I smile, starting to pull off my clothes and let the extra small girls uniform fit onto me like a glove. I step out and smile at Fakir, watching him try not to smirk at me.

Striding out into the soft glittering dawn light, we try and avoid the other students walking to their own early morning destinations. We don't need to get caught and have unwanted questions flood other students minds. Fakir leads me to my room, crossing his arms and huffing a sigh.

"You really get into a lot of trouble, don't you?" He chuckles and ruffles the hair on the top of my head. "Don't forget. You have another lesson at 4pm." He turns and walks out. Strangely, I'm less happy to watch him go, staring at his stride. I take in every last part of him; the movement of his hair, his hips, his body. I smile at him, just watching how pretty he is. But immediately, I remember that I love Mytho, not Fakir. I couldn't love someone as cold and brutish as him. I slam my door shut, pacing around my room and running my hands through my hair. That kiss wasn't anything more than him being tired, so it didn't mean anything to him. I groan as I watch the sun continue to peek up. At half past noon, I hear a calm knock on my door, peering out of my door as I watch Antoinette stand, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

"Oh, Anty!" I smile up at her, opening my door even more. She stamps her foot against the wooden floor, glaring at me.

"Hello, Ahiru." Her voice is somehow even colder than Fakir's.

"What did you need?" I invite her into my room, watching her sit down on the bed, crossing her ankles. Her school uniform fits her a lot better than her unitard, and I smile as I sit across from her on the windowsill. Her chocolate eyes grip onto me, to the point it feels like she's suffocating me.

"You and Fakir are not nearly as sneaky as you think, you know? I saw you two slipping away from the teachers dorm." She leans forward, smirking at me. "Is he any good in bed? Is it nice staying in the school because you're fucking a teacher?" The tips of my fingers feel numb as my face becomes white. I bolt up, appalled at her assumption.

"What?" I ask, confused by her question. She smiles wider, circling around me as she twirls the threads of loose hair from her bun.

"It's kind of obvious, you know? You and him always get along. You're always seen alone together. Even if he's haughty and totally out of your league, I think everyone can tell he's got the hots for you. Even if you're just using him for… what would that be?" She tugs on my braid, smiling. "Sex? Affection? Better grades?" I gulp, sweating. Why would she say these things? They were wrong, all wrong! I barely kissed him, and I didn't even initiate it. She tugs on my braid again, making sure I know I'm not in control in the slightest, that she is the one who can make me bend to her whim. She continues.

"Regardless what it is, your little secret is safe with me. So long as you listen to everything I say." She scratches my back with her long nails. It stings, almost feeling like she's going to draw blood. I manage to scramble back.

"It's payback. You must understand. You get my brother expelled, and I make you pay recompense for a couple weeks. And unless you want your relationship to be known by every other student and teacher in the school, you will listen. Consider it, Duck. Because I need your answer after class." Before I can really even respond, I watch as Antoinette leaves the room in her usual confident stride. Her offer (more of a demand, in honesty) stings in my mind. Who was her brother? How did I make him get expelled? What was she even talking about? Frozen in the streaming daylight, I feel my chest sink inward.

What have I done..? It's only been four months into the new semester, and the last month has been nothing but absolute chaos. I've made people hate me, and I've met people who want me to be hated. Something is completely wrong in this school. Something is filling it to the brim with darkness. The only thing that reminds me of kindness is Pique, Lilie, and Fakir, though only him in short bursts. I wish he would dance with me again, just once more. His hands wrapped around my waist, and our dance gentle and sporadic almost. It was never perfect, but it was fun, it was passionate, and it was just us. I begin dancing by myself, as though someone was there with me. Though it is sad, honestly. Sad being alone once again, dancing as I had when my mom was gone. It was a lot of slow movements, close to the floor, close to the grave I created in my mind, the one she deserved.

I lay on the floor for a long moment, just hugging my leg as it's left in the splits. My thighs still scream in fear. Waylands hands still drift over my underwear and I hug my leg tighter. He wasn't here. It's nothing. It's fine. It's going away, though. Almost like it's being forgotten, which is all I want.

I peer my head up and look up at the clock tower as it chimes. One, two, three times. I need to get ready for lessons. I pull over one of the unitards, and pull my hair into a bun, smiling widely as I try to hide the discomfort pulling my strings. Walking towards the ballet room, I watch as a crowd of girls comforts someone. Curiously, I wander over and try to find who's being comforted. I watch as Anty bellows and cries, talking about Wayland. Even more curious I hold my breath, listening closer.

"I can't believe they expelled my brother! He did nothing wrong, and they expelled him!" Antoinette wails again, her dramatics especially good today. Someone else muses, attempting to comfort her.

"Wayland was a good person, we know he wouldn't do anything like that!" I hear them say. I step back for a moment, no longer listening to their conversation as I lurch myself towards the ballet hall, slamming myself inside the ballet room. Mr. Katt looks at me, his voice hissing for a moment as he asks.

"You're early, Miss Arima. What's the occasion?" He crosses his arms, seemingly bemused as I pull myself onto the bar, starting to stretch.

"I just wanted to get a little extra practice in before class." I smile at him, starting to practice steps one through four. Katt smiles and lets me continue, just finishing up his own work, whatever that may be. As the room floods with more girls, I notice Antoinette still whimpering and sobbing as she's surrounded by the same group of friends. I feel my stomach drop, knowing now what her threat truly means. Mr. Katt claps his hands together and the lesson begins, not paying any mind to a distressed Anty. But I pay all my attention to her.


	7. Chapter 7

Antoinette waved off her friends, cautiously counting her steps towards me as she privately isolates me at the end of the hall. I watch her emotions suddenly disintegrate, the sadness completely gone. It's replaced only with stern disinterest.

"So? What's your choice?" Her hands grip on her hips as she stares down at me with immense displeasure. I fumble with my fingers, looking up at her and furrowing my brows.

"I-if it really means that much to you, I'll try to help. It is just for a few weeks, right?" I try and smile, as I watch her thin lips smile back, nodding rather pleasantly.

"Of course, and once those weeks are up, it'll all go back to normal. You and Fakir can have whatever little fling you have, and my heart will be fixed." She hugs me closely, in those big warm bear-like arms. I hug her back and she looks at me, her eyes narrow and her body language authoritarian.

"The first thing I want you to do is hang out with me at six. Plain and easy. I'll be at the gazebo," She chimes before running off to her regular group of friends, and I hear her sadness immediately re-enter her distraught tone. I go back to my dorm, realizing I have only about thirty minutes left. I quickly change into my casual clothes, which just consist of soft orange shorts, and a white turtleneck. Walking out this late leads to no strange looks, surprisingly. The sun hasn't begun to set, but the purple fading into the sky makes me smile for some reason. Something about the moon coming out makes me giggle. It's like a sweet dream, urging me along. It seems all my bird friends are asleep in their trees. Not a single peep from any of them as I pass by.

I notice Antoinette sitting idly with some of her friends. I smile as I wave at her, though as soon as we catch eyes, she nods at me, motioning me to sit over with them. I nod back and rush over, sitting amongst her and the other women who I had never met before. They all looked extremely mature but equally different; full breasts, wider hips, all varying heights, weights, hair colors, and races. They didn't look familiar at all, but maybe they're her friends from the outside?

"Ladies, meet Ahiru. Ahiru, ladies." Antoinette motions towards us both. I smile and wave at them. There's something off about most of them, but I don't really know what it is. I sit amongst them, listening to them start chatting about something, but it's almost like an amalgamation of too many minor conversations. I can't really understand anything from any one person, until one of the women, she looked about twenty-four with wavy blonde hair, sun kissed skin, and gentle green eyes, smiles kindly at me, finally asking me.

"When was the last time you had any? Nettie said you have a little boyfriend who gives it to you." I don't really know what she means, so I shrug confusedly instead.

"I'm sorry, I don't really know what you're talking about. I haven't received anything recently, and I don't have a boyfriend." The woman just giggles a moment, before clarifying her statement.

"Sex, sweetheart. Do you just play around, or are you exclusive with one person?" Her tone is surprisingly cheery despite talking about something so private. I quickly throw my hands up shaking my head and blushing.

"O-oh god no! I don't have sex! I haven't even seen someone else naked before!" I watch as nearly everyone looks at me with utter shock, almost horror, my voice having been much louder than I expected. Even Antoinette perks up, practically glaring me down. The women start giggling at me, and I get even redder than I already was. My brain is fuzzy as Antoinette just huffs at me.

"Oh, so you're just a pure little virgin, aren't you? Want a medal?" Her voice is condescending and brusque. The older girl smiles and strokes my hair, waving off Antoinette's comments.

"She's just waiting for it. She probably hasn't even gotten kissed either." Though after this uncomfortable interaction, everyone continues talking about sex, and coincidentally ignoring me, until I hear the clock chime at nine. I stand and smile at the girls, bidding them good night. Antoinette starts off towards the dorms with me smiling and laughing, asking me why I didn't tell her I was a virgin.

"I-I was scared, I froze. I'm sorry, should I have?" She looks down at me and shrugs at my comment. She's more laid back now, less volatile. I guess it was just her high emotional state earlier, and it seems she's completely over it at this point.

"I guess I was a bit scary. But you need to understand where I'm coming from. I thought you were sleeping with my prince. Someone I know you dislike greatly. Someone I've idolized since we started classes in grade four." Her voice sounds more kind and friendly. Her dreamy voice sings about Fakir far more than I ever have. I smile, but something tugs in my throat that makes my stomach hurt, a sick and twisting feeling that almost yanks me in one direction. Something about her saying Fakir was her prince makes me feel anxious.

"I understand, but it's all just a really big misunderstanding. Fakir has been letting me stay in the teachers dorm for a while for my own safety since a lot of things have been happening." I laugh nervously as we finally make it to our dorm, seperating into our own floors, as she smirks.

"Oh trust me, the only danger you're in now is with my ladies." I stand, staring down at her in silence, before she begins laughing. "I'm just pulling your leg, Duck. They don't bite. Good night." She slips into the lower level, and I ascend up the stairs to my own dorm. I change into my nightgown and lay in my bed. My entire life seems to revolve around these strange dreams I have. Something about them makes me feel strange, the fact they revolve so heavily around Fakir and me dancing, or worse. I curl up under my blankets, begging not to dream about anything. Not to think about Fakir undressing me, or kissing below my face.

Though this leads to fantasizing about certain things. About that kiss between us. Thinking about what if it went further. What if his hands went further under my unitard? I feel my hand creepingly tug under my underwear. I slip my fingers against my little sweet spot, starting to rub it ever so gently. I turn onto my stomach as I fantasize further.

His hands cupping my breast as he kisses them very gently, kissing my neck softer than anything I've ever felt. His hand rubbed the lips of my crotch as he pulled aside my tight uniform. A finger rubbing against my clit as I quiver under him. I let a weak moan out into my pillow, pretending to hear him speak to me.

"You're a sweet girl, Ahiru," He would say to me. "You're so beautiful, and kind. Trust me, you're almost there," His voice is sleek and soft, as I whimper even more. I quiver even more, his fingers getting faster against me, before I feel the release. Cumming hard as I whimper his name loudly into my pillow, hoping it's muffled, I sigh peacefully into my pillow. I imagine Fakir laying next to me and kissing my forehead. But now I realize exactly what I have done. I groan in regret, knowing just what Anty told me. Anty had told me all that, and I just masturbated to the person she wanted to be with more than anything. I don't know what kind of person I could be, doing something that shameful. It felt so good in the moment, but I can't feel good now. I still am conflicted over how I feel about Fakir even.

Though his lips still linger against mine, I try and rub away the softness of his lips, trying to get the gentleness of him off of me. In the process, I feel a flash of something. That twinge in my gut, remembering Wayland touching me. Victor holding me. Their volatile hands cupping parts of me I didn't want to be touched. I wish I could erase their hands, from my body. Somehow thoughts of them exhaust my mind enough to make me pass out.

Waking up is far harder than falling asleep was. Lilie is physically shaking me awake and I bolt up in front of her, confused and still very sleepy. Before she even says anything, I can hear the alarm bells ringing throughout the town as sunlight burns my eyes. Eleven chimes. I've missed morning lessons already. One whole day off suspension and I've already managed to screw everything up so immensely. Fakir is probably disappointed in me already, and I don't know why that makes me so uncomfortably sick, why his opinion of me is so important. Lilie stares at me, her eyes sadder than I've ever seen them. I look at her, scared as to what she has to say, though her lips are pursed. She says nothing, just turning, waiting for me to get ready for the day. I change quickly out of her line of sight and begin walking with her.

"Is he angry at me?" I ask her, but she doesn't respond. That means he's probably furious. I follow her to the ballet room, where she shoves me in, running off down the hall. I stare as Fakir is faced towards one of the mirrors, stretching out his legs before catching my eye and turning to stare me down, his body noticably less tense.

"Antoinette told me something involving you last night. It was quite… Concerning, to say the least." I watch his feet gracefully toe over to me. My thoughts about him last night flood back in, and my cheeks just turn bright red, avoiding his line of sight. Fakir looks down at me, his arms crossed. "She told me that you were out, very late at night with some suspicious women." I finally move my face up, looking at him with furrowed brows.

"What?" I mutter.

"Is there something you need to tell me? She said these women seemed like they were women of the night." He seems at least a bit concerned. I shake my head, thinking it over. Antoinette was there with me, and she knows that. I pry my lips apart, about to croak out the truth, but I hide it under a fruitless lie.

"I-I don't know, they were very nice to me." Fakir sneers, slipping his hair out of the ponytail.

"You know you're bad at lying. Why do you keep doing it?" He pulls out a little journal from his pocket, jotting down something in it. It reminded me a lot of the journal in my dreams. But still I shrink into the door.

"I'm sorry, Fakir. I just don't feel comfortable talking about it." I quickly change the subject to try and save Antoinette's reputation before I blurt anything else out. "I'm sorry I missed morning lessons, too."

Fakir doesn't even seem to notice, before putting his journal back in his pocket. "You need to stop being so on edge. You're not in trouble, I'm not going to spank you." I watch his face blush for a second over that last comment, but I don't fully understand. He smirks and leans down towards me, his hair once again drifting over his eyes. "Then again, I could assume you like that." Another tingle runs up my spine. Skittering back against the door I groan at him.

"I don't want anyone to touch me! Especially spanking! That hurts so much!" But he quickly turns back, running his hand through his hair and letting loose a long sigh, muttering something to himself. I lean in and watch him just sigh before fixing his hair. He glimpses out the window, pondering for a moment.

I stride towards the window, right where he was looking, gazing down at the people below. He follows, peering out and watching people with me. I hear him chuckle and I look over at him.

"This may be invasive, and you can tell me to buzz off at any point." He prefaces, turning his back to the window. "But have you ever been in love with someone?" I watch Fakir as his gaze turns to the floor, looking almost in gear if whatever answer I give. I dig deep into my mind about it. It's a sweet, flowery feeling. It's what I used to think about Mytho. Wanting to be close to someone.

"I guess, I think I have. You probably already know who it is." I nervously lean over the bar, looking further out the window into somewhere that might not even exist. "It feels like I want to hold his hand and… I don't know. It's like this really huge want to be in their arms and dance with them." Fakir looks over at me, raising one of his brows.

"You realize we have danced together, right Ahiru? And if I'm not mistaken, one of the first years of our school years together, you held my hand." His voice is slick though he stands straight again, his muscular legs lifting his body entirely. "So I'm assuming you have had a boyfriend before." I shake my head. I never wanted one unless it was Mytho, but along with that is the no fraternization policy.

"Nope, you're the only person I've kissed, too." I remark, now watching a shiver run up his spine as he turns to look at me, completely dumbfounded. I shrink back, nervously giggling.

"So you're telling me that I was your first? Like, first first?" He seems distressed by this, and I try to reassure him that it is all okay, that I didn't mind. He manages to calm himself down, before fixing his hair once more. "I need you to meet me in the prairie we met in earlier. It needs to be completely isolated." He puts his hair finally back up, and with it his teacher mask is back on. "Meet me there at four tomorrow. Make sure no one else follows you there," He finally stands straight, squeezing my cheeks like he had done earlier. I move my face away from him, furrowing my brows and sticking my tongue out.

"And why would I? What reason do I have to trust you, after you told me not to?"

"You don't. You don't need to listen to me at all if you feel unsafe." He walks out with no other words exchanged, and I follow his hips. They're very nice. They sway in a way that makes me shift myself, and smile a little. My heart starts pounding in my chest, and I can't help but feel a bit intrigued by his words. He's right; I don't have to listen to him, I don't need to do anything he says. But there's something compelling me to listen to him. Stepping out of the ballet room, I run into the bathroom for a moment, needing to splash water on my face just to collect myself.

As I slide in quietly, I immediately hear something. Gentle and muffled moaning, cupped into someone's hand, almost like they're at least trying not to be caught. But they're very bad at not getting caught. I slip out again, uncomfortable at the mere sound of two people bumping uglies, quietly walking to the girls dorm to grab my knapsack for afternoon lessons. As soon as I'm done, I walk over to Pique and Lilie, smiling and talking with them, holding hands with both of them as we continue chatting. Lilie seems to be a bit better now, but she asks me something that sends a dagger into my stomach.

"What do you and Fakir do when you're alone?" It seems innocent, though her tone is rather suggestive. I don't want to lie to them. They're my real friends, but I don't know if they'd ever understand. I'll tell the truth, I think, just not all of it.

"He and I just talk, mostly."

"Talk?" Pique and Lilie chime together. "What about?"

"Mostly ballet, but sometimes about life. It's really nice." I smile to myself, thinking about that little grin he pulls when we're alone and that one time he genuinely laughed with me. "He's a big softie when you get down to his core," I feel Pique and Lilie squeezing me between their mature bodies, practically crushing my face.

"So you're in love with him!" They squeak, cooing into my ears. I feel my face burn brightly as I wriggle away from them.

"N-no of course not!" I fold my arms, though I can now see that they're set in believing I'm in love with him. But I can't even really define how I feel about him myself, it's just a comfortably warm glow in my chest. Like a shred of light beating in my heart. As we walk into class room, I can hear a loud commotion from across. I can see a large group of girls whispering and laughing, with Anty staring at me, a devious smirk crossing her lips, beckoning me over. I look at Pique and Lilie, shrugging before dashing over to her.

"Did you need something?" I try and ask sweetly. Antoinette smirks and eyes over Fakir as he enters the room. She nods her head over to him.

"He seems less tense today. I heard a student gave him a blowie in the girls bathroom," She giggles, making a gesture with her hand and mouth, raising an eyebrow at me. "Was that you?" I feel my cheeks, vague memories of learning what that was last night reverberating in my mind.

"No! I would never do something like that!" I practically shout, embarrassing myself as now, everyone is staring at me, including Fakir. His voice booms in that standard authoritarian fashion.

"You wouldn't do what, Miss Arima? I'm sure if you speak a little louder the whole class would like to know what you would and wouldn't do." I sink down to the floor, apologizing profusely. I listen as Antoinette and her group of friends laugh, taking their seats. I take mine, assigned between Pique and Lilie as Antoinette mouths "good job" to me. My stomach turns as inside my head I'm screaming at myself. Papa is screaming at me too, telling me exactly what I did wrong and how I should just give up. Most of the class is spent with my head glued to the desk in embarrassment. I feel an assignment placed next to me, and I finally perk my head up. A review of the Pas De Deux we were supposed to practice. There was no score, but instead there was a note, written in Fakir's beautiful cursive; "Meet with me after class".

I gulp, knowing I've very well flunked. As the bell rings, I bid Pique and Lilie on without me, with them having scored 96/100 scores. They probably danced beautifully together. I walk up to Fakir's desk as he's writing again in that little journal. I fumble with my fingers as he doesn't look up, just sensing my presence.

"About your Pas De Deux, I presume?" He sets down the feather quill, finally staring up at me, folding his hands under his chin. I nod and he returns it, frowning a bit. "Unfortunately, even though your partner was expelled, and you were assaulted, I cannot delay this assignment. I attempted to discuss it with Headmistress Samiel, but she was firm in her place. So, I'll be having you sit in during your lunch period to clean the ballet rooms, and you are being kept in the remedial periods." I bite my lip and nod solemnly. "I know you can dance beautifully, and I know that you're smart enough to pass." He stands, taking my hand and starts dancing with me. His hands lovingly keep me pressed into his chest as we continue. I trip for a moment, nervously shattering into his arms. I feel my body just tremble as I shake my head. I can hear everyone's voice speaking through me.

"I can't dance Fakir… I'm not smart either. I'm just a failing student, and I don't deserve your sympathy." He lets me go, his fingers running against my cheek

"Is that what you believe, or people have told you to believe? Because there is a difference, and I will make sure you recognize the difference." His voice is demanding, and yet still kind. He lets me go from class, reminding me about our meeting place. I nod and find my friends. As I'm walking with Pique and Lilie, they coo over and comfort me, though Antoinette halts us and sticks her nose up.

"I need your rubber duck." She demands of Pique and Lilie, though I watch them shelter me.

"She's not a toy. You can't just take her wherever you want." Pique states firmly, though I meekly walk towards her, knowing very well what she could do to them. I shrug, waving at them.

"I promise it's just for a little bit," I smile at them, but I see the anguish on their faces. I know this is wrong.

She leads me through to the gazebo again, her friends still there, but I see another figure. Someone familiar. That slick blonde hair and well built figure, that curved nose. I cower behind Antoinette and shiver. She looks at me, growling.

"What? You're not chickening out already are you? It's been two days." She grabs my braid, pushing me forward towards the group. I sit beside the same girl I met yesterday, hoping Victor doesn't see me at all. But my hopes are dashed as soon as I hear him speak up.

"Oh my, the little fox named Ducky is here. I didn't know she got into this little path in life." I watch as he wanders close to me, not standing me up, instead tilting my head up. The crotch of his pants is dangerously close to my face as I skitter away from him. "A fresh and dangerous nubile, I see." He smirks down at me, adjusting his pants for a second. I squeak and stand again, hearing the bell chime for the three o'clock bell.

"I have to go clean classrooms," I blurt nervously, bolting away from them. Something about being that close to him scares me. His hands could easily make me do anything he wants. I bolt through town to that little isolated plain. I gather myself before Fakir enters, breathing deeply and letting little birds perch on my arms, listening to them sing and tweet, soothing my fear a bit further. They surround me as I start weaving flower crowns with the daisies and other flowers from around the plain. Mom taught me how to make them; she told me it's good to make people gifts to show our appreciation for them, and our dedication to their friendship. I smile and weave one for Fakir even, with blue, yellow, and pink flowers weaved in. I smile and set my finished crown on my own head as the birds twitter about, fluttering and dancing together in the air. I listen as the bushes rustle, making way for Fakir. I stand straight as my bird friends flicker away.

"Fakir!" I smile at him as he walks over to me. He seems casual for once, in a button down shirt, and loose pants, fastened by a belt. He's smiling at me, and we sit together again in the soft afternoon light. I don't even know what makes this time so comforting. It's serene, away from all the chaos in the school, away from all my problems. I clutch onto the flower crown I made him. "May I?" He finally looks from it to me, before kneeling into position for it to be bestowed.

"I would be honored, Princess." His voice is sweet again. I blush and place it around the top of his head, fitting it perfectly. I smile and curtsey at his formal request.

"Anything for a humble knight," I giggle at him, sitting in front of him and smiling. He sits across from me, touching the petals and stems, enjoying his crown from what I see. He looks down at me and smiles, as we bathe in the cooling breeze.

"Do you remember our performance, back about five years ago?" He turns to stare at me. I remember it, but I don't really remember much.

"Yeah. You were ass back then, too." I smirk at him. He stares up at the drifting clouds, hands pressed to his chest as we just lay together in the soft grass. I watch him reminisce on something.

"Do you remember the first day of performance?" He starts again, looking me over. I think it over, shaking my head.

"Not really. It was just a huge blur of pain and pink." I whine, resting on my tummy and holding my head up with my hands. "Why do you ask?" I watch him unbutton his shirt by two buttons, and I remember. A long dark scar across his chest. Starting from his right shoulder and going well below the belt, it is a slight shade darker than his natural olive tone. I remember that promise I've kept.

It had been a very long day. I had been put in an uncomfortably tight white costume, and my long hair had been placed underneath a feather prop that had crowned the sides of my face. The actual small crown prop on the top of my hair was pinching my scalp and I was ready to cry. The tight ballet flats made my bones feel like they were about to crack. This was too much for an eleven year old like me. Why did I even choose this role? I had never danced before, but I was just compelled to do it, I guess. I couldn't even remember my own move set. I was bursting through the hall, my feet crumpling under the pressure I put my feet and mind under in that short time frame. I grabbed the door handle of what I thought was my dressing room and flung myself in.

I had practically shriveled in the corner of Fakir's room, nervously breaking down as my makeup had already started streaming down my cheeks. I thought I was alone, that I was by myself in this hellscape. Though there were footsteps in my direction, and I looked up. Fakir was in front of me; fifteen, shirtless, and watching me with some unreadable emotion. His long dark scar was visible, making him more intimidating. I wanted to skitter back, but I was so tired I could barely even lift my head. I stared at the long scar across his chest, still sniffling.

"I-I'm sorry, Fakir…" I tried standing, but he just kept me seated. As he began buttoning up his shirt, he finally spokr. His voice was slightly higher back then, but it was still as authoritarian as it is now.

"Why are you crying? We're going to perform in half an hour." He finished buttoning up his costume, leaning over his knees and watching me continue to sniffle, and wipe away my makeup as my tears acted as great remover. Through hiccuping and distressed sobs, I try and explain.

"E-everything hurts r-really, really badly, and I think I forgot m-my moves and… I'm gonna mess up everything just like my dad said I was gonna. He's gonna watch me out there and I'm gonna fall and hit my head really hard and-" I was cut off by Fakir's hand cupping my mouth. His mouth twitched in annoyance as he stood us up in his tiny dressing room.

"If you think like that then it's going to happen. Now, listen to me, I'm not letting you ruin your first performance," He leaned over, staring at the small elementary school aged girl in front of him, tucking my hair back behind my ear. He knelt down, adjusting the ribbons on my ballet flats, making them less tight. He did the same with the rest of my costume, gently adjusting it so I wouldn't be suffocated or in severe pain. "Now, we're going to go over your set. So show me what you remember." I nod and start moving my legs to the beat playing in my mind. But I halt as soon as I get en pointe. I whimper and tremble, forgetting everything after it. Fakir took my hands, helping me retrace the steps we took in class. As soon as I remember, he sits me down fixing my makeup that had run down too far to salvage, which seemed like most of it at the time.

"Thank you, Fakir," I beam at him brightly, watching him scoff at me as he waves his hand out.

"Now leave. And don't tell anybody what you saw. I will make sure your life is hell if you do." He scowls, but it never crossed my mind as I ran out to perform in front of everyone.

Fakir returns his gaze to me as I come back down from that memory. He traces the outline of the scar through his shirt, and I just watch his face for a couple moments. Tracing over his features with my mind. He looks so close to how he used to, but still the signs of age grace him better than all those years ago.

"You really must have wowed your dad. You did great for your first year." He turns to me, though I shrink a bit at the mention of him. I blow air at one of the blades of grass in front of me, my brows pushed together at the thought of him.

"He never showed. It wasn't that bad without him though. He's not a very nice person to begin with," I turn to Fakir and change the subject, sitting up to watch the clouds begin to graduate from white to pink. "Can I ask you something personal?" He raises an eyebrow and tells me to continue. "Who was your first?" I watch his face burn up a bit, turning to face away from me.

"That's a bit far, don't you think?" His voice cracks for a second.

"You asked me the exact same thing! I should know who you've kissed since you know who I've kissed," I muse, pulling on his collar to look up at me, his anxiety deflating a bit. He laughs for a second, sitting up in his place as I release his shirt.

"Oh thank god. I thought you were asking something completely different." I watch him think for a couple moments before finally responding. "It was a girl who was in the advanced ballet class. She was a transfer, but I think her name was Agnes. It's been quite a few years though. I was probably a year or two younger than you." I sink back to the ground, laying on the soft grass. So he was fourteen or fifteen. Great, now I feel behind the curve of romantic interactions with anyone.

"What did you think I was gonna ask?" I reply, my fingers inching towards him, gently rubbing my pinky against the palm of his hand. His hand doesn't rescind, instead intertwining with mine very gently. My face flushes red as I feel my heart pound. This feels like something I'd fantasize about, something in the dead of night.

"I thought that you were gonna ask how many people I've slept with." My face burns brighter and I release our hands as I shuffle back.

"No! That's way too far to ask, especially since you're my teacher!" Fakir sits up as well, pulling me into his lap. My fantasies are starting to flood back into my mind. Those fantasies I've had in the middle of the night when no one else is around, when no one should be awake.

"So kissing isn't too far for you?" Fakir smiles, his head nestled into the crook of my neck and shoulder. His lips grazing against my collarbone sends goosebumps through all of my body. It's a sensual feeling, and I don't know why I like it so much. He pulls back, instead standing both of us up. "But this isn't why I called you here, and I'm sure you know that." He fishes his hand through his pockets, before extending his hand out to me and giving me a note. I opened it up, reading it to myself.

I know your dirty secret. Listen to everything I say and both of your steamy secrets can be left buried in that room you spent that night together in. I need you, Fakir, to stop visiting with Ahiru, since she's just a lying little crow. If you fail to comply, then I will let everyone know what happened in that sweet little room. She spilled every detail to me. I feel my chest tighten. It had to be Antoinette, I know that much, but why would she say this about me? It was wrong, completely wrong!

"Do you know who this could be?" Fakir takes the note back, folding it neatly and putting it into his pocket again. I struggle to form the words. Why can't I just tell him it's Anty? It'd be over within minutes if I just told him. It'd be completely finished and done with. But I still owe her. I open my mouth before hearing the bushes rustling again.

"Well well, so this is what you call 'cleaning classrooms' little duck?" Victor groans, starting over to us. Fakir pulls me behind his back, shielding me from him. "Making flower crowns and making out with older men? Didn't think you really had the guts, since you said you don't have a boyfriend." Victor managed to tower over both me and Fakir, though Fakir doesn't seem to shrink like I do.

"Who are you?" Fakir glares at him, still a few inches shorter than Victor.

"Oh, she never told you? I'm Victor. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Fakir, I assume." Victor tries to circle us, though Fakir keeps me behind him, pressed to his back and away from Victor.

"How do you know my name?"

"Your lovely students don't stop talking about you and how dreamy you are. Surely you know that," He tries to touch the flower crown on the top of Fakir's head, though Fakir bats his hand away. Victor smiles deviously. "Did you know that someone's saying that you, Mister Fakir, have been receiving oral favors from students and staff? They're saying that you've been getting busy in bathrooms with the underage students and coworkers."

"That's not true!" Fakir shouts up at him, though Victor doesn't seem the slightest bit phased. He simply chuckles, starting to step away from us.

"Even lies have some semblance of truth, children." I watch him saunter away without another word, Fakir still clutching me close to his back.


	8. Chapter 8

Fakir lets me go from his back, groaning in frustration. He pulls his flower crown off, running a shaky hand through his hair, now slicked with sweat. I can tell he's exasperated and scared by everything that's just happened. I am too, honestly, I feel like I'm responsible for this. I shrink back from him, holding onto the hem of my skirt.

"I didn't know this would happen, Fakir." I tremble, managing my fear a bit better in front of him. He turns to look at me, sighing and pulling me into a tight hug. My fear melts and yet solidifies in his arms as I hear the soft beating of his heart in my ear. It's beating so fast, it feels like it's going to burst at any moment. I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze him, as we sit in this silent dusk until it's pure darkness. He finally pulls back, staring at me, swallowing hard.

"We can't meet like this anymore. No secret meetings between us. Nothing outside of lessons. Nothing outside of the classrooms." I watch as tears fill his eyes, my heart snapping in two. But I understand. I know why he wants this, and I can't even really blame him. We stand up, starting towards the academy. In the thickening green of the woods, I feel something burning in my chest for a long moment.

I stare at his hands as he grips onto that flower crown for dear life, still walking through the thick forestry. My hand softly creeps forward, pulling through every little fiber of my resistance. Though our hands meet, walking side by side as I twitch my pinky against the side of his hand. He walks a little slower now, turning to look at me as his free hand intertwines with mine. Our fingers interlocking together. I want to stop, to lean up and kiss him against a tree. But I don't. I just keep walking beside him in the silence, squeezing his hand ever so gently. He squeezes back, before releasing our grips.

"This is where we part ways." He says as the Gold Crown Academy comes into view. His voice is strained, almost like he's holding something back. I nod, trying to smile up at him. Though I quiver and pull into a tight embrace, lunging us back into the woods for a few moments just to savor it a little longer.

"We have to go, you idiot…" He almost pleads, but I feel his hands pulling me closer into him. There's that noticeable soft lull in his voice, though it's covered in melancholy as well. I don't want to let go. But I do. I look up at him, stroking his cheek as I watch small tears start trailing down. He holds my hand against his cheek, smiling as I wipe them away with my thumb. I can see that genuine feeling.

We walk through the gates and part ways to our separate dorms. I watch as he still holds onto the flower crown, carrying it with him until he disappears through that brown door. As soon as he's gone, I feel my heart start aching.

I linger around inside my own dormitory for a little while. A ghost haunting the halls with silent cries about life being unfair. I pace slowly upstairs, counting every single one of the two-hundred and thirty-three long steps I take until I make it to my private room.

Slipping inside, I lay on my windowsill, unwilling to do anything other than watching the moon glide over the sky slowly. It feels like it's not even moving. The world has seemingly stopped to laugh at my sadness, to mock my tragedy. To make my life as miserable as possible. I finally break into the hard wood of my sill, softly repeating to myself over and over again in a pathetic, almost childish fashion. "I love him… I love him… I do…" I feel the words just spit themselves out, things I never thought I would cry over.

It's been so long since I've ever felt this. I remember this aching from six years ago. The shards of that remaining pain sinking further into my back, propelled forward by this new and fresh experience. It's like glass splintering into my back, each new shard threading into a tattoo of inability. Of being unlovable. I felt the desperation of his fingers as they clung to me, begging me to stay close to his chest and never let go. More tears spill out. I never thought this sort of love could hurt.

I was hurt when Mytho rejected me, but I could understand. With Fakir, it's practically devastation. It's a whole different kind of pain, like someone just died in front of me. Fakir had actually spoken to me, had actually talked to me like I was a person, and it seemed like there was something inside him that compelled him to still want to be around me. Even if I was an idiot most of the time.

The clock chimes eight times. I continue shivering on my windowsill, though no longer sobbing. I'm just lost in my thoughts, hoping that the night consumes me and all that I have. I can feel the world sinking dark claws into my flesh. Everything I have, every intimate little part of me, everyone who I love is lost. Something about knowing that, while not easier to understand, is a lot easier to digest. It's like I'm just a dull background character in a tragedy. It'd read "The knight realized his folly, and instead of falling for the commoner, grew more in love with a beautiful maiden," Or something drab and depressing like that. It's a fitting role for me, to be a commoner. The girl without any choice in her entire life.

I look out into the night sky, the moon still gliding over the dark sky. There's no stars dotting it, however, almost as if they're mourning my tragedy with me. I stare out, hoping to be struck by the moon as she passes, directly in my forehead would be best. I wonder if Fakir is just as hurt as I am. My heart beats in my chest as I look over at the boys dorm, where I used to watch Mytho and Fakir talk all the time. They were on the top floor, like I still am. I could watch them talk until bed rolled around, though if Fakir noticed, he'd shut the blinds so I couldn't even watch them.

The clock chimes nine. I have been moping for an hour, at the least. Fakir's arms still feel like they linger on me. I smack my forehead, trying not to think about it. It is too painful to even think of. But it wasn't leaving, it was intensifying even further. It fills my mind far more than I ever wanted. Finally the intimacy of all of our interactions, every small stroke of my hair, every cup of my cheek, every intimate little smile.

I manage to crawl under my blankets, still fully clothed and unwilling to change. I need to punish myself for acting so foolishly towards him, for believing it could really work out between me and him. I press my face into the pillow, letting it take the rest of my tears, soaking them in until I pass out.

There's no dream. Just the emptiness in that black abyss. As it happens tonight. Waking up fills me with no joy either. The rest of the day is a blur. I avoid Pique and Lilie for all of it as well. I linger around Antoinette as she has asked. I stay around with her and her friends, just listening as Antoinette lightly strokes my hair, keeping me silent as she drones. Fakir must have taken the day off, since I can't seem to find him anywhere on the academy grounds, though it's not like I really care to see him. It'd just be a world of hurt crashing down onto my shoulders.

"Oh Ahiru, I know it hurts, but it's just a fairy tale to think you'd end up together. You're so young compared to him, and he's only been with mature girls closer to his age. Like me," She dotes, as the rest of her girls start sharing techniques for certain sexual acts, discussing their prices, and the like. Though I'm too distracted to really care. I just nod along with her, agreeing to whatever she says, not even paying attention to her words at this point.

The rest of the night passes slowly. I find myself without a thought, and yet my mind is buzzing. I fall into my bed again. Something pounds in my chest as I lay down on my back. A flash of him back laying on top of me, and suddenly I was a mess again. I was sobbing into my pillow, curling it into my chest and swaddling myself in my comforter like an infant.

The days blur together into weeks, and the weeks blur into months. Fakir has been avoiding me like I'm the plague, which is fair enough in his defense. I avoid him just as well outside of classes, despite my internal protests to stop and stay and talk to him at length about everything we used to. But I listen to Antoinette's every whim, not wanting to upset her and let the lie slither out into the school. Her dramatics become more histrionic by the day, and I've learned to just deal with it at this point.

"Duck, you seem off today. Is everything alright inside that little duck brain of yours?" Antoinette finally chirps, cracking me out of my daydream.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just thinking about something." I smile meekly, playing with the end of my braid. Victor saunters over to me, smirking in the same, uncomfortably sensual way he usually does.

"Are you sure getting railed wouldn't make you feel better?" He offers, half playfully, half seriously. I just sneer and shake my head, continuing to play with my hair.

"That will work around the same time that I turn into a speck of light," I flash my tongue out at him, turning my face away. He turns sour, and he stomps back to one of the younger looking girls, whose name I learned was Ana. She begins snuggling up to him, her hand intimately rubbing his chest as he begins spitting venom about me. I lay back into the gazebo further, knowing I can't avoid the inevitable for very much longer, that I'm going to eventually be coerced into his own orbit.

Antoinette smirks at me, popping a rather odd and abrupt question.

"When's your birthday, Hiru?" She looks at me with a loving and gentle smile. I return the smile, though with less enthusiasm as I just stare at the ceiling, releasing my hair from my grip

"May fifteenth. Why do you ask?"

"That's tomorrow, Ducky! I'm gonna buy something for you!" I hold my hands up in protest, but before I can say anything, she already has it set in her mind that I'm going to get a celebration. I feel my chest sink. I don't want to be noticed anymore, by anyone. I feel my fingers twitch anxiously as I think about the only present I want. My fingers intertwined with Fakir's once more in a little cottage by a lake.

I didn't really notice that my birthday was so close, in all honesty. Time honestly doesn't feel real. What happened between Fakir and I must have been in March. Meaning I should be completely over it at this point, but I'm not, and I'm angry at myself. For whatever godforsaken reason, he still runs circles in my head like it's a marathon to make me miss him, to make me want him. Antoinette bids me goodnight as I slip upstairs, creeping into my room as quietly as possible. I feel the intimate details of my nightgown flutter over my body.

My bed feels like it's made of rocks as I toss and turn incessantly. The moon glares at me from her perch in the sky. Midnight rolls in, and I finally just stand up, half awake and not entirely sure where I'm going as I leave the dorms. I find myself in my classroom. Surprisingly, they never locked any of the doors for any of the classrooms. Perhaps it's because they expect better from the students, or they just don't care enough to lock them. I step inside, letting myself loose as I dance about the room, desks are as empty as I feel. I'm officially Princess Tutu; a minor character that, as soon as her purpose is fulfilled, disappears back into the speck of nothing she once was. Another face in a sea of faces that are far more interesting, far more beautiful, far more acceptable.

My feet ache like they did those years ago, when I was eleven. And yet, Fakir's hands still helped guide me. He may have been curt and coarse with me, but at least he wanted to help. I sit on one of the desks, imagining Fakir's first kiss with that girl. It must have been nice. His hands probably held her closer than he held me. Maybe she took his virginity too, I think. Fakir isn't as inexperienced as I am. That's clear from his movements, his posture, the way his body keeps me close without any effort. I think over all the intimate things he's done, almost yearning to have done them with him first. But I don't even know how to do those things, I have to remind myself. Even if Antoinette and all her friends have done it, it doesn't mean I do.

I leave the classroom as I hear the bell chime for three. No one is watching me anymore. Slipping back into my room and creeping into my bed, I watch and wait as the sun rises. I'm officially seventeen today. What a strange thing to remind myself, that I'm almost an adult. An adult who can barely perform ballet properly without tripping over my feet and slamming face first into the ground. I wiggle into my blankets even further, waiting for the darkness to consume me. Though when the bells chime, I rise. I notice how my uniform feels more loose, probably from my loss of motivation to eat anything other than fruit and bread.

I run through the courtyard and down to the classroom I had danced in last night, seating myself in my normal seat. Even though Pique and Lilie no longer speak to me since I had become friends with Antoinette, so there's not much point sitting beside them. As Fakir enters, I press my head down into the cold wood. I hear footsteps walk up to him, and a voice speaking to him, drowned in the ocean of conversation and gossip. Fakir retorts something back and the student trots back to their desk.

"Alright, please get settled, students. Class is starting. Mister Katt is out sick for the next few days, so I'm taking over the girls class for the time being." His voice booms, and the girls pipe down, only exchanging small gossiping whispers. I look up, watching his eyes catch on mine for a moment before he dodges his away, passing out a sheet of blank paper to all of us. I take hold of it, softly thanking him. He continues on, ignoring me.

"I need you to all write an assignment. It can be about whatever you want, but make sure it spans one full page, back and front. Be sure to keep it clean of profanity as well." I look down at my page, staring at the clear white sheet. I begin hearing pens scrawling, though I can't find any thoughts to fill my page. I just let my pen work its way down the page. I'll just write about something benign to me. At the top, I write a title.

Princess Tutu Should Not Have Gotten A Happy Ending.

She genuinely didn't. She was a nobody, who knew her consequences for her actions, and yet she still pursued them. Pursued that prince and told him how she felt. And when she faded, no one felt sad, no one really even batted an eye at her death. I continue filling my page with similar ideas. She was just a background character who got what she had quite literally asked for when she told the prince her feelings for him, knowing she would die because of it.

Turning it into Fakir at the end of the class, I smile weakly at him. He avoids my eye contact, though I hear him whisper something under his breath.

"Happy birthday, Miss Arima. I hope you spend it with people who genuinely care about you." His words feel flat as I walk out. I just thank him with what little effort I can muster. Before I even leave the door to the empty class, he says one more thing. "Please keep yourself safe today as well. I don't want to have to see you hurt," I linger on his words, nodding slightly, before walking towards the gazebo. It's my routine at this point. No one is there quite yet, so I sit alone, watching the clouds drift by. My smile returns to my face for a moment. My brain finally manages to start working again. I feel the cogs start turning as the birds tweet even more. A thin yellow bird flutters towards me, and I hold my hand out, letting Miss Canary rest on my hand. Sitting up and smiling at her, I realize her songs are a little sadder.

"Is everything okay Miss canary?" I rub the top of her head. She doesn't respond, just continuing to sing her sad song. I sigh, putting the words I want to hear in her mouth as I vent my problems towards the sky.

"It's hard losing people you love. I'm sure you know what that's like." I watch her droop her head, and take this as agreement. "First it was Mom, then Dad, and now… Fakir." I watch her flutter away and sigh, defeated. No one wants to listen to me complain. I shut my mouth, which gives me realization to people walking closer. I notice Antoinette and the twins smiling as they bound towards me. I return the smile, waving them over. Antoinette bounds up and hands me a small box.

"You guys didn't have to!" I anxiously grab hold of the box. I genuinely don't need or want anything. Though they continue to urge me to open it. I slide the bow undone, opening the box up and staring down at the little trinket. I pull it out, confused by what it is.

As I get a better look, I notice a small rubber duck. I smile and squeeze it, listening to the shrill squeaking it emits. I smile and thank them, as they all three hug me gently. I hug them back, feeling a bitter hollowness in my stomach. This present feels like a cheap play on my name, with no real interest in what I like. Though I shouldn't complain. It's from people who care about me, and I never really receive gifts as it is, so I feel a tad more thankful. They talk at length about someone in the boys dorm as we walk through the school grounds. I nod along, not really sure what to think as their talk consists heavily of how good he is at lewd acts, things I still can't really find interest in, having never been intimate with anyone still. We move into our own rooms, changing for our remedial lessons, and heading into the lesson hall.

The lessons go as planned, with Antoinette and the twins watching Fakir stride throughout the lesson, gawking and watching over his slender muscular figure. Instead I listen to the sweet ring of his voice as it reverberates around the room, like a bell. He speaks with the sort of authority a teacher should, with the gait of a Prima Ballerino. I watch him, trying to keep my balance steady. I breathe in, trying not to lose my balance, attempting to ignore the sickness rising in my throat. Despite this, I feel myself becoming more and more dizzy, nausea starting to pool up into my stomach and throat. I try breathing a little slower, a little more calmly, though I feel my ankle roll again. I fall to the floor, a hard crack to my side as I lay there, filled with pain that's now pooling in my side. I can't help but pathetically lay on the ground as Fakir and the other girls crowd around me. I can see Antoinette groaning in anger, distress from his kindness threading into every little seam of her being as Fakir strokes my hair, trying to calm me down. I hiccup softly, closing my eyes to numb the pain. Though I pass out in his lap, snuggled close in his warmth.

When I reawake, I'm in my room, swaddled in warm blankets and a cold rag placed on my forehead. I didn't have a fever, did I? My head throbs and my ribs ache, but other than that, I feel normal, relatively speaking. The light from outside is still coming through, so I step up from my bed, watching out of the window as Fakir pulls out a sword. I open my window up to the outside world, staring down at him. I hold my head in the palm of my hand, listening to his distant voice. I watch as my bird friends join me in the sill of my window, quietly enjoying the distant scene of him teaching some of the boys how to properly wield a sword.

I watch through the whole lesson, staring dreamily at him as he attempts to teach his students, watching the boys fumble with their wooden swords and awkwardly jab at each other. He pinches the bridge of his nose, seemingly disappointed in their inability. As his gaze turns up for a moment, I give him a wide and dreamy smile down, my birds continuing to pile beside me as I lazily wave at him from my own perch. He lends me a small grin, waving back, that warm glow coming back into my stomach with that little grin of his.

Quickly I realize my actions, slamming shut the window, causing a stir between my birds and own senses, jumping inside my room and clutching my beating chest. I can't look at him like this. I can't think about him like this anymore, I repeat to myself over and over again. He isn't mine. I seat myself back on my bed, his face etched back into my mind. It feels like I'm doing something illegal. Fakir is for Antoinette, so I can't like him anymore. But why do I still feel this way? And why won't it go away? Why won't this burning need for him to be with me just leave?

After letting myself be glum for a couple long moments, I decide to change out of my uncomfortable unitard and into my last clean nightgown, one that I've had since I was eleven. It is a faded pink, and a bit see-through from wear, but it's all I have left at this point. I curse at myself for always falling asleep in uncomfortable day clothes.

A knock on my door startles me for a moment, catching me right as I pull on a clean pair of underwear. I peek open the door, curious as to who could be here midday. Antoinette thrusts me back as soon as the door even opens a crack, slamming the door behind me. I hear her screaming about something. About how I'm making her look bad in front of Fakir, how I'm actively sabotaging her chances with him, and that my little stunt just made him sympathize with me even more. I stare down at my feet, listening to her irately screaming at me. I just nod along, even if I didn't do it on purpose, I know I hurt her.

"You need to stop seducing him! You're such a stupid bitch!" She berates, and I shrink down, apologizing. She looks around the room, searching for something. "Where is it? Where is the gift I gave you this morning?" Her voice demands, shaking my entire room as I nervously shrug.

"I think it's in my knapsack… Why do you ask?" I rummage around nervously, pulling the neon yellow duck out, and clutching him to my chest. Though as fast as I shield him, she rips him from my hands, attempting to unlatch my window. I reach my arm out in protest, quickly following after her. I want to keep him. Even if it doesn't mean anything, it was still something kind and I appreciated him!

"Wait! Don't do that!" I try to grab hold of her arm to stop her from throwing it, wanting to keep the little shred of kindness she had given me, but she jerks me away, pushing me down to the floor.

"No! You made me look like an idiot in there! You're an absolute bitch, and you take all my kindness and step all over it! Just like everyone else does!" I watch the window fly open, the little duck managing to soar quite a few feet, landing somewhere I can't quite pinpoint. It might not be broken, but I don't know where it lands at all. I scramble up, trying to see where he may have landed. Turning to her, I try to rescind into my wall, inadvertently cornering myself.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I couldn't help it!" Something about her scares me at this moment. I feel flashes of a completely different time spill into my head. Her words just jumble into noises, and I can no longer truly focus on anything but the pain in my chest. She becomes an abstract shape, just as jumbled as her words. I know she's still yelling at me, though I'm almost completely blank in my mind, shielding myself from the abuse. I notice as she gets more and more irate. I try to snap back, but I feel like I can't pull myself back to the moment at hand, for whatever reason. Tears aren't even able to strain themselves out as I just nod along to her insults, taking everything I'm being told, just weakly trying to shield myself from her.

I'm finally brought back as she breaks me into reality with a hard smack to my cheek. Something that knocks me to my floor, the prickling pain of her palm against my flesh is painful enough to finally emit a yelp from my lips.

"Don't mock me! You are nothing without me!" She screams down at me before turning out the door with a final venomous threat. "Are you ready for everyone to know you and Fakir have been sleeping together? Because that's what's going to happen if you keep fucking with my feelings like this!" I open my mouth, ready to cry back in protest, but I can't get anything out over her mocking my cries. My door is slammed and I'm alone in my room.

I'm going to be ridiculed by everyone and Fakir will think I started to spread that rumor. Everything is going to work out the opposite of how I hoped, and I can only really blame myself. I stand up, wobbly on my feet, walking down the stairs towards the showers, too numb to care if anyone sees me. I undress, wrapping a towel around my chest, hiding the rest of my fragile body, walking into the surprisingly abandoned shower room.

After my towel is wrapped around my body tightly, I start for the sinks. I start splashing cold water on the spot that she had hit. Cold water helps not leave marks, from what I remember Dad teaching me. It makes me shiver and have to gulp down breaths of the warm air surrounding me to even feel like anything is happening to me. The droplets of frigid water drip down my chin and neck, pooling between my feet and down the drain of the sink. I repeat splashing my face until I hear the door creak open.

"Are you decent, Ahiru?" Fakir asks rather softly from the crack in the door. I look down at my towel, clutching it tightly in one hand as I give a shaky and cracked response.

"Yeah, come in, Fakir." I listen to the door creak open further and I grip my towel even tighter to my chest.

"Someone said they heard a fight coming from your room. Is everything okay?" He doesn't move from his spot in the doorframe, just watching me. I turn to face him, nodding my head as I keep one hand on my cheek, the other on my towel. He's leaning against it, his hair long and loose today, for whatever reason. He's wearing a black shirt and brown pants that hug him tightly.

"I'm fine, it was just a misunderstanding. It's been resolved." I smile at him, holding myself back from stepping closer and making a fatal mistake of slipping into his arms. But instead he takes those steps closer, staring down at me, completely unconvinced.

"Move your hand then." He demands. I hesitate back, though he cups my own hand with his, gently trying to pull me away. His thumb rubs very softly against my skin, and I nuzzle my cheek closer in his hand. Though, recognizing my weakness to his intimacies, I pull back from him, pressing my back against the sink as both my hands grab onto it for dear life. He steps forward again, his hand cupping my now bare cheek. His cold hands rubbing the hot, red patch on my porcelain. His eyebrow raises, staying as intimidating as usual.

"You act like this is okay," Fakir removes his hand and steps back from me, hands sliding into his pockets. I'm so touch starved that the moment his hand moves away, I suddenly feel my body become uncomfortably weak. "And you know that this isn't deep down. You may be stupid, but you're not that stupid. You're like an infant, careless-" I stare up at him, glaring and shouting back.

"I know how to take care of myself, Fakir!" I realize my tone and walk towards the shower stalls like a dog with her tail between her legs, stepping inside and releasing the towel from around my body as soon as the door is closed.

"It sure as hell doesn't seem like it," His words grip into me as I turn on the faucet. "Keep hanging out with those girls and you're going to get beaten and bruised into submission. You're no different than you were all those years ago, you moron." The changing room door closes behind his footsteps, and I'm once again lonely in this large place. The water is hot enough to burn my back, though I just sit there, letting it roll down my shoulders and bare body, drowning my thoughts out in the rush of water bursting from the shower head. He's right to a certain degree, I think.

After drying off, I think over Fakir's words. It pulls a string of similar beads and thoughts together, but it breaks. I slip into my pajamas yet again and start drudging back to my room, as his words ring in my ears, striking me in the gut as I begin recognizing what he means.

I used to be resilient to this sort of treatment. People could never walk on me when I was younger, not even Fakir. I could talk back, confidently argue, make myself heard, even if I knew I was weird. Was it my need for validation that kicked in, after puberty fully started? Was it my vulnerability in those situations? I wasn't a weak willed person before, so what changed?

My room is the same as I left it before, with my window wide open and the spring breeze making them clack against the off white walls. I sigh, realizing that I should have probably at least taken the steps to tidy up.

Sitting in my window sill, I stare into the sky, just lost in my mind until it's well into the night. I shake my head, looking around, unsure of what happened. It felt like I wasn't even completely myself in those moments, my mind and body disassociating from each other completely in those long hours. I shake myself off, staring at the stars, curious to see them in full one more time.

I shift myself, sitting atop the high roof and staring out into the sky. I remember the only other time I came out onto the roof of any building, just to watch the stars pass me and the world. It was always beautiful like this. Something about this time of night made me weak to Fakir's words. I stand on the roof, letting my dress drift in the breeze. I move to the very edge, sitting very delicately and watching the stars drift further along their set path in life. It's strange to know how far away they are, how some of them might even be burnt out by now. I start tracing out constellations my parents taught me all those years ago. A smile crosses my lips as I point out Taurus in the sky. My birth sign, I remember.

As I finally grow tired of the delicate twilight, I recede into my room once again. I feel safe in this moment, under these blankets, like a bird in a nest, far away from any impending danger. Closing my eyes, I let my dreams grace me.

An ugly duckling, abandoned in a lake. I swim along downstream, watching all the other ducks wobble behind their mother duck. I continue to float alone, wondering where my momma duck could be. I try to quack out, but no one looks at me. I waddle out from the water, lost and cold as I waddle through a large town with countless buildings looming over my head. I don't know how but I manage to find myself inside a little cottage, peering behind boxes as a large figure walks in. I quack loudly, not really knowing why, just wanting to catch his attention. He kneels down, scooping me up into his arms, placing me inside of his warm jacket. I smile, snuggling further against him. He places me on his desk, stroking the feathers on my head.

His face is always obstructed, and I quack out, snuggling more into his hand as he jots into a small journal. I watch him write, but I don't recognize the letters. I quack up at him, asking him to read it. He understands me and obliges, reading a tale about a princess stuck in a duck's body, the spell only broken by the kiss of her prince. I turn towards him, quacking again, asking if he can kiss me.

"Oh? Are you a princess stuck in a duck's body?" He chuckles, kissing the top of my head. A flash of light, and I'm a girl, sitting in front of him on top of his desk. I stare at him and smile.

"I am, Fakir," I giggle, stroking his hair, as he stares up at me, confused and flustered. I settle down from his desk, kissing his cheek.

As soon as I wake up, however, I devastate myself. I'm not a princess. And he's not my prince, sadly. I'm just a student with feelings that aren't okay. As the week blurrily passes, my cheek no longer throbs and is no longer red. I struggle to pull on my daytime clothes, just slouching for a long moment. I listlessly watch the day start passing by. I swing the window back open, letting the sweet spring air kiss my skin. I smile as I lay out more bird seed for my feathered friends, leaving the window open.

I lean out the window and watch as Fakir walks across the campus, hands still slipped into his pockets. He's walking alone, and I perk up, thinking that maybe I can talk to him. Though as quickly as I notice him, I watch as a student runs up to him, distracting him immediately. Pulling back from my window, I still dress myself, peering out my window once I'm decent. I watch as the student points up towards my window, and Fakir bolt towards my dormitory.

I shut my window, and tightly lock it, all breath leaving my lungs as I realize what's happened almost instantly. Antoinette told everyone that he and I slept together. I watch my door push open and I cower back. Fakir opens the door, and slams it shut behind him, staring me down.

"Are you okay?" Fakir asks, looking over me carefully as he pulls back my sleeves, looking me over. My heart races, caught in my throat as I'm unable to speak. He grips onto my shoulders and shakes me.

"Answer me!"

"I'm fine!" I manage to croak out. "Why, what's wrong?" Fakir doesn't answer, continuing to look frantic and scared.

"Show me your thighs, Ahiru. Bare." I feel my cheeks flush as I grip onto my skirt tightly, pulling it down more. I want him to see what was under, but not when he is like this.

"What is this all about, Fakir?" He, once again, does not answer, instead pushing me onto my bed, his hands rising under my skirt. I feel his hot breath against my stomach as he feels up my legs, sending a confused wave through my spine of sexual tension. His hands grip onto my thighs, thumbing over my sensitive flesh and I finally manage to thrust him off, hearing him fall to the ground. He growls, his face visibly exhausted as he stands again, pinning my hands down to the bed with just one of his.

"I'm making sure you're not hurt, you idiot!" He slams my hands down once more into the bed. A warning. I realize that as his free hand starts tracing the outside of my thighs once more. They pull against my panties, searching for something.

"Stop it, you asshole!" He squeezes my wrists, glaring down at me. Before anything else can be said or touched, I feel his head press down against mine, sighing in defeat. He's holding my shoulders very gently before starting again. He removes his hands from my wrists, my eyes shut tightly as I'm just underneath his body. His tired eyes look down at me, concerned

"Someone said they saw you on the roof a couple of nights ago, hanging off the edge." I look up at him, catching his eyes as he furrows his brow even more. "What were you doing out there?"

"Star gazing. I wasn't going to jump off or anything!" He loosens his grip, pressing me into him. Another tight embrace. The loving, longing one I have been missing for all these months. I grip onto him, his heart throbbing in his chest, against my face. I feel his fingers clinging to my body as tightly as I keep him against me.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" He jokes, stroking my hair. I chuckle, nodding into him as I want to sink in.

"As long as you know you're a meanie," I look up at him as his fingers pull through my hair gingerly. This is comfortable. The circumstances, not as much, but being in his arms again. He leers at me, pulling away from our embrace, and helping me to my feet.

"If anyone catches you on the roof again, I will not hesitate to strip search you to make sure you have no suicidal tendencies." He threatens, completely serious. I puff out my cheeks, trying to retort.

"That's not fair! I'm not even gonna do anything!"

"Does that matter?" He inches up my skirt, rubbing the outside of my thigh. "Besides, you seem to not mind my hands all over you." I watch him stick his tongue out of his mouth, and blood rushes to my face as I start eagerly pushing him out.

"Don't say things like that! You're my teacher!" His heels are dug into the ground, rooted in my room as I fruitlessly push on his chest. He fake yawns and stares down at me.

"You're not saying that I'm wrong." He pushes my back onto the bed, pinning me between his arm and the rest of his body. He leans down, his grin devious as my face becomes increasingly red. His hand rises up my chest, before standing up and walking towards the door. "I better not hear of you trying to jump off the roof, or hurting yourself."

I nod and watch his hips sashay. God, they're nice hips, I tell myself. I watch him until he closes the door, my mind snapping out. Wait, was I just staring at his butt? I shake my head and try to remove it from my mind. Though I still feel his soft hand on my thighs and chest, making my heart flutter away like a butterfly through a thick summer breeze. His hands don't feel like they've left me. But then I realize, someone had to tell him something, to give him that very touchy reaction. What did Antoinette tell people?


	9. Chapter 9

"What? You've told me you're suicidal, so I just told some people so they'd be able to help you," Antoinette defends herself, still eating her grapefruit in the cafeteria. I glare at her from my place across the table, continuing to barely snack on the bread I had got for myself. It tastes stale, but I honestly just need something to keep me full today.

"I would have appreciated you not telling others, though. It hurt when someone mentioned it."

"It was a slip of the tongue, gimme a break. It's the least I could have done after the way you treated me." She takes another slice of her grapefruit, her voice condescending as her stares.

"It's not like it was intentional, calm yourself, princess." One of the twins comes to her defense, crossing her legs and patting the table in front of me, trying to minimize the damage. I slam down my bread, pulling my chair back as I step away from them, done with their charades for the rest of the week. Though Antoinette's strings as she wants to pull me back into her spiderweb.

"Don't be like that." She growls, threatening me. But I trudge along.

"I have to figure out what I'm doing for my final in Katt's." I bite back, staring them down. "You can come along if you want, but it's not going to be fun."

I don't hear their footsteps following me, instead just my own feet stomping towards the library. I didn't need them antagonizing and ganging up on me like this. The library settles around me, frigid air and dust collecting on some of the older shelves, the creaking of the old and familiar wood welcoming me. Toeing around, I don't know what I'm looking for, but it's something important. A fairy tale to determine my dance final.

The floor creaks with the sound of other students walking about and chatting idly. I tiptoe around them, not really wanting to interact with anyone, actively wanting to finish my assignment before the due date for once. As I keep pulling what feels like hundreds of books from the shelves I'm almost ready to give up, to stop while I'm ahead. Yet after what feels like hours of browsing and possibly millions of papercuts, I manage to find the storybook that I have been scouring for. I pull it from off the top shelf as dust billows into my face, causing me to hack and cough loudly from the sheer amount of dirt it has, I squeeze my eyes shut before thumbing over the cover, swiping off the layer of dust. Beauty and The Beast.

The exact assignment was described as creating a dance based on something from our childhood, and I chose a story. No real need to play a dance about my depressing adolescence unless I wanted a pity party in my honor. I breathe in deeply and hope not to catch more dust in my lungs as I open it and start flipping through the pictures and words. They're all beautifully painted and the words compliment the mood drawn on the parchment perfectly. I run my finger across the spine, the silver lettering as pristine as they could be in this worn out fashion.

Striding towards one of the open tables, my legs feeling stiff from walking down rows, I notice a familiar figure reading a book of his own at one of the only tables available. Dark hair and olive skin held together in a thin and muscular build that remind me too much of a certain, specific person. I lean over him teasingly, standing on my tip toes as I press my small chest against the back of his head, watching him physically shiver from the experience, most likely in disgust as Fakir turns to face me.

"Whatcha' reading there, grumpy man?" I smile from behind him, watching Fakir slam shut his book, giving me ample time to read the title. 'PTSD, Abuse, And How They Affect Fairy Tales'. "Looks cheerful," I step down, giving him a smug grin.

"If you hadn't given yourself away, I would have sworn someone hit me in the back of the head with a wooden board." He sighs, almost repulsed, and I grip onto my chest, accidentally feeling up the small plush mounds buried underneath my fabric. My uniform really does no good for making my body feel or look mature, but there's not much to mature.

"Ooh, ouch, I'm wounded Fakir. You've truly hurt me." He rolls his eyes, my tone dripping with sarcasm. I point to the seat next to him, smiling. "Mind if I sit here?" He nods, scooting his chair away from me so as not to be associated with my awkward presence.

"Fine. Just don't disrupt me. I'm doing research." He flips his book back open, avoiding my gaze. Instead of responding, I simply flip my own book open. My curious eyes however, they decide to glance at the thin pages of his book, my interest piqued starting to read a small passage from the yellowing parchment:

"... Disassociation is a common side effect of PTSD, causing the victim to lose touch with reality for periods of time…"

I lean in a bit closer to read, almost sickeningly curious. That sounds familiar, like it's happened before. Fakir shuts it in my face, glaring down at me, his hands keeping it shut. I huff, leaning back in my chair, opening my own book,now fully attentive to it. It's the typical fairy tale my mother would read me at bedtime, and a lovely little ball of joy fills my fingers, making them tingle. Still, I glance over at Fakir.

His book is still shut. My eyes drag up to where he's staring off to, noticing he's reading along to my book instead, a quaint and sweet smile crossing his lips as he eyes dance across the pages. I quack at him, watching him regain his own focus. He turns the page in my book, unphased in the slightest.

"Hey, that's mine!" I poke his cheek, though he doesn't seem to mind or care, seating himself closer to me as he reads along. The thin air in the library felt cold just a moment ago, but now with Fakir next to me, it's practically burning up. His head is placed in his palm, eyes lazily studying the pages. We sit shoulder to shoulder, reading alongside each other. I feel other students watching, some breaking our focus for a few moments to ask Fakir about questions about lessons we've already gone over in class. He seems agitated, but not to the point of disregard. Instead as though someone woke him from a nap to ask him how to put out a fire. As soon as the last girl trickles out and away, Fakir groans in disapproval, a hand running through his ponytail.

"It's like no one listens to me when I talk in class. It's a damn good thing I'm out of here by the end of the year," he whispers to himself, though I clearly hear him, sidling a tad closer, and flipping another page. I squint, curious as to what he means. He doesn't bat an eye, simply flipping the page once more.

"I'm retiring from teaching to become an author," He seems cool, nonchalant about it almost. He's smart enough to be one, that's for sure. Though I still feel weird knowing he's going to be leaving. Sad, almost.

"What are you gonna write about?" I chirp, reading the very last page, watching him stare off. He closes the book, thinking about it for a moment. He finally responds, leaning back in his chair and shutting his eyes.

"A fairy tale. I want to rewrite The Prince and The Raven. My great-great-grandfather wrote the original, and I found it too much of a depressing mess," Standing up, he lends me a hand, continuing to talk. "Princess Tutu deserved a better ending. It's unsatisfying to have characters die off after doing all that hard work. Maybe she shouldn't end up with the Prince," He muses, ruffling my hair. "But anything is better than dying alone for nothing." I feel my heart shrink, realizing what I wrote about in my page long essay.

"I didn't know that you had a connection to that story. I would have chosen a different topic for my essay if I had known," I hold my hands together anxiously, walking with him out into the courtyard. He smiles, stifling a laugh.

"Trust me, it was an interesting take, even if your writing is mediocre. Better than everyone else's, even if it's only for the fact that it wasn't the same" His eyes light up a bit and my heart flutters yet again. That grin is back, making the world spin faster around my head. I clutch onto my book and press it to my chest, hoping to still my beating heart.

"Oh? Did everyone else write about how nice your butt is?" I tease, and he rolls his eyes, groaning directly to the God in the sky.

"You would not believe the amount of girls writing about wanting to sleep with me, or make out with me or…" he pauses, thinking it over for a moment. "Yeah my ass was a popular topic, come to think of it. I didn't realize that so many girls actually looked at that," he laughs and I agree, laughing with him, even if I'm just as guilty.

His fingers run through his hair, pondering something for a moment before looking at me, bottom to top as I'm thumbing the spine of my book still. I look up at him, quacking as he's still deep in thought, hoping to pull him out. He taps the top of my head and begins speaking softly.

"Mytho wanted me to give this to you," Fakir reaches into his pocket, pulling out a letter with a blue wax seal, and patting the top of my head, walking away. "He said it was 'integral' that you get this letter by today." I hold onto the delicate parchment, flipping it over. It has my name written on it in gorgeous cursive.

"Oh, uh, thank you!" I look it over, saving it for later as I put it in the book as a placeholder. Fakir continues towards his dorm alone, responding to a question I never asked.

"No problem. Dunno why he couldn't just deliver it to you like he does all of mine, but there you go." I smile, just looking over the pretty paper between the golden tinted pages of my book. I bid Fakir goodbye to his lackluster response. I trot over towards my dorm, taking in all the sweet flowers. I want to rip it open right now to see what it says, though I hold myself back from tearing into it. It's delicate, and it was handwritten by my prince. I clutch it to my heart, and scamper inside, nervous that the rest of the world can hear my heart pounding in my chest.

I zone out as I walk back to my dorm, listening to the simple sounds of nature and the creaking of wood. A symphony of pleasantries surrounds me on this day. In my room, I finally peel open the letter, reading it to myself with my back pressed to my door.

'Dearest Ahiru,

Rue and I have recently moved home! We are inviting you as one of our close friends to enjoy a 3 week long spring break, lease free stay in our new home, all accommodations included and paid for! Do not worry about paying us back, we simply want to treat you. We do understand if you are busy with school or family this spring, but Rue and myself would love to see you again before your final dance.

Also, Rue would like me to mention that she wants to show you our new private ballet studio and aviary (since both of you are fond of birds and ballet, she's noticed). There's also a lake behind the house that you can use for swimming, if you so please. Please meet with us on May 17th on the 8th morning hour at the entrance of Gold Crown Academy if you wish to. It will just be just us, so do not worry your pretty head about being around people you don't know. We have surprises waiting if you choose to come!

Please consider it. We miss you a lot!

Yours Sincerely,

Mytho~'

My heart leaps and I twirl about, swinging my body. My mind screams, gleefully squeaking "Yes!" to myself over and over again. Realizing I have to leave tomorrow morning, I start packing three week's worth of clothes and all of my school work into the one, poor knapsack that's now overfull to the point of bursting. I leave my backpack and the letter beside my bed. Amidst my excitement, I take it into my hands to use my excitement to work into a dance. Thus, I continue reading through my storybook and scouring for ways to make a compelling and passionate dance.

The scene where Beauty falls in love with the Beast. I smile and jot it down on the top of the page, starting to think over how I could possibly convey love with my dance. How I could show it blossom and flourish like a rose without thorns.

I begin plotting out steps, the specific movements. I glide around my room, letting the world revolve around me. I can't even really tell what I'm doing, as I practically float around the room by myself. I stand en pointe for a moment, pivoting and en flat. Again, and again. I count in my mind until I reach thirty-two full pivots. My heart bounces out of my chest as I realize that my feet sting a little, my balance quite off now.

A fouette; I remember the name as I finally let myself rest, writing frantically down all the steps I did, recreating in my mind exactly how I had just managed to do it. I try once again, a lot slower and less extreme than I was just doing. I smile and my cheeks burn brightly as I realize I can probably get Rue and Mytho's help with creating a dance that will at least let me stay in the school.

I start laying out birdseed for the usual evening crowd, before practicing again. My feet protest as I keep trying, but I'm not going to stop until I feel satisfied with myself. Mytho creeps into my mind as I think about the Beast. But his hands don't hold or guide me. His chest doesn't press against my back as I drink in the sweet air around me, dancing softly alongside the birds around me. His fingers don't curl against my waist and help me soon. I finally step down, realizing that my ankles have throbbing blisters. I wrap my feet in bandages, flexing my toes one at a time.

I can't help but watch through my window as the pinks and purples of the sky leak together painting a beautiful tapestry. Glimmering stars weave a story together. It's calming to watch the night pass by after a day like this. I open my window, leaning out and smiling, enjoying the world surrounding me for once. Nothing bad can happen here.

I see another artificial glimmer from the corner of my eyes. Peering over, I watch as the teacher dormitory's door is open, someone standing in the frame. I wave over at them, beaming. They don't wave back, caught up in the beauty of the night. I watch with them, separately indulging in the same sky. We stare as the same moon, same stars, same galaxy pass over us. In that way, we're connected. Not physically, not mentally, maybe not even emotionally, but in this moment, we are connected.

My bed beckons me into it as night begins its longing crawl to become daytime. My window is closed, I'm comfortably in my bed, everything feels perfect as I close my eyes, anticipating the gleam of the morning light.

Thankfully, my mind and body rise at seven, giving me ample time to get ready and leave. I throw on a long yellow sundress that floats around my ankles and smile as I twirl around my room in it, watching the ruffles squeeze and release over and over again. I listen as the clock gongs, realizing I'm about to be late. I bolt out of my room, backpack over my shoulder as I spring to the gate, running face first into it. I flop back and hold my face in my hands, as it pulses in searing pain. A familiar gasp echoes in my ears as I pull my hands down a little too see him. Mytho extends a hand to me, to help stand me up.

"Oh Duck, you were never really graceful on your feet, were you?" He holds back a laugh, helping me up. "I'm glad you accepted our invitation. Rue and I have really missed you," He hugs me tightly, my head pressed into his chest as I hug back, before leading me to a horse-drawn carriage that's waiting politely just outside the gates. Mytho helps me step inside, before entering behind me, beaming as we begin speaking again, the carriage starting off at Mytho's word.

"Are you sure your parents are okay with you spending a few weeks with a pair of your old classmates?" He seems bouncier than usual, more excited than before.

"Yeah, my dad doesn't mind as long as I'm not bothering him," I chime, watching him from across the rather cramped carriage. Mytho smiles, nodding his head.

"That's good! It'll be fun for you to get out of that stuffy university for a little bit. Plus, we've got some surprises for you at the house." He's like a bouncy child. I smile widely, moving over to sit next to him, getting bouncy as well.

"What kind of surprises?"

"If I told you, you wouldn't be surprised, and that'd ruin it! Plus, Rue made me swear not to tell you."

"You also can't just tell me there's a surprise and not tell me what it is!"

"Oh I certainly can, and you're going to endure it for the rest of this carriage ride." Mytho pushes his finger against the tip of my nose, and I groan as he keeps teasing me throughout the carriage ride. He looks at me, a devious smirk pulling at his lips. "So what lies has Fakir spread about me to the general populous?" My face rises a shade of red as I think about the things that Fakir has even said about Mytho, remembering the short time we spent alone together.

"He said you were kind of a playboy when you were in school, almost you kinda constantly sought the adoration that came from the girl's class. Like you always wanted to know who was into you and Fakir." I paraphrase as best I can. Mytho ponders, leaning back in the cushy seats.

"Yeah, I can see how he thought that. I was always really seeking that external validation, to a degree." He looks down at me, ruffling my hair, his voice sweet and playful. "But Rue helped me, she's my mediator. And don't you worry, Fakir was similar to a degree. He just wants someone to care about him, even if he is an absolute dick about showing it." He smiles, patting my cheek and leaning back. Those glistening golden eyes are something of pure bliss. I can't feel that prickling love in my fingertips, it's no longer itching in my heart and brain when I look at him. But it's still a safe feeling.

"He's got every single girl in and out of school wanting to sleep with him." I admit, laughing and shrugging my shoulders. "I'm sure he can find a girlfriend who cares, easy-peasy." I fiddle with my backpack strap, trying to find a physical distraction so I don't have to imagine him dating someone else.

"You'd be surprised how refined his tastes are, honestly. He's confided in me some rather interesting details about his perfect girl." He remarks to the seats in front of us, not even paying me mind. I lean forward to stare at Mytho's expression more closely. Still unreadable, however.

"Like what?" I squint, as equally scared as I am curious. He shrugs his shoulders, holding a finger to his lips.

"It's a secret. Something he doesn't want anyone to know, and I can't very well break my best friends trust," He teases, and I groan in frustration. I pull out my school journal, starting to jot down more about my dance.

"Although," Mytho continues. "I guess it's not telling a secret if I just so happen to let you know about his past girlfriends." Mytho winks at me, and I stare up at him, my hand still clutching my journal as my hands slowly stop scrawling. "That's public information, after all,"

"Girlfriends?" I ask as curiosity starts eating away at my enamel. There's more than one? Mytho smiles and holds up four fingers.

"He's been around a little. Had a very interesting experience in University, from what he wrote to me at least." That's three girls unanswered for.

"Could you maybe elaborate on that? I know Agnes, but that's about it," I avoid looking at Mytho as I keep working on my homework, mostly for my own peace of anxious mind to not see his excited expression.

"Well Agnes was at Golf Crown, but that was really short; there was only about a week or two where they were together. Then there was Lilith, Robyn, and Amelia in University. They all had very different personalities from what I understand. But he described them the same way physically, now that I think about it," His sly gaze overwhelms me almost from just how flirtatious it feels. I open my backpack, stowing my work away as he starts listing off their attributes.

"Freckled, light hair, light eyes, and very mousey." I feel my heart almost implode as Mytho wiggles his eyebrows, a smug grin on his lips. "But it's probably just a coincidence, honestly. Don't think about it too much," He pesters me, the carriage stopping shortly after. He lifts my backpack over his shoulder, helping me out of the carriage as I stand with the large villa staring me down.

The large estate looks like a cottage in the forest, but much larger. It seems homey, comfortable, yet expansive and ever growing. It's painted a soft glittering purple, light bouncing off of it. It seems to only be two stories tall, but before I can even take it all in, I watch Rue walk out in a casual wine red blouse and long black skirt, smiling at us both. She softly kisses Mytho as he heads inside, my bag still strapped over his shoulder. Rue hugs me tightly and takes my hand in her's. I feel so small compared to her.

"How've you been, love? It's been forever!" She smiles down at me and squeezes my hand softly before adjusting my hair, fixing me up little by little as we walk through the garden out front. It's filled with flowers with names I don't know in colors I didn't know existed until now.

"It really has! I've been okay, just regular boring school stuff," I look up into the sky, hearing the sweet chirping of birds and beaming up at them. "Mytho told me you have your own aviary!"

"We do! She's filled with all my favorites," Rue coos, leading me to the side of the house, where I notice the large glass enclosure. The glass shades all manner of reds, blues, and purples spanning across the grass behind it. It looks like a miniature castle as the sunlight soars through, guarded by walls of flowers. I watch Mytho step out from the house gesturing something urgently to Rue and catching her attention. She stiffens up, looking back to me and opening the observatory door. "Here, you can go in through this door, I'll be right back." I watch her trot towards Mytho until they disappear into one of the side doors of the house. I enter, closing the door behind me and staring at all the beautiful creatures inside. An inkling of joy fills my legs as I step forward, watching as one of the birds, a Yellow-Crowned Night Heron to be more specific, lands peacefully on my arm. She's a beautiful shade of green, her large yellow eyes both expressive and impressive to me. On my other arm rests a little black grackle, and then a raven. Bird after bird lands on me, until I'm a giggling mess, covered in tens of colorful birds. Their songs all blend together into a lovely symphony of sounds.

I try to dance along to their song, even with their weight on my shoulders and arms. I feel like a real princess for once, almost like how Rue probably feels when she dances on stage. I begin practicing my Beauty and the Beast performance for the birds to enjoy. Their chirps of approval in my ear sing loud and pleasant as I keep twirling, watching them flutter away and land again on my arms and shoulders. They help to guide me through the steps. One by one, one foot after the other, gliding over the floor like an angel does until finally I hear the door crack open.

Rue enters back into the aviary and catches a glimpse of my dancing, chuckling as I hold all the beautiful avians still in the air, my fingers wrapped gingerly around the hem of my sundress. She places her hands on her hips, sashaying towards me and lifting up a finger, as one of the common blackbirds rests on it.

"They're very friendly today," She continues towards me, "I must say, I'm a little surprised they like you. They took some time to warm up to me." She lulls, letting her bird flutter to her seat on the ceiling. The birds covering my arms all flutter to their own places, chirping gleefully. I shrug, still watching them all fly around, singing to each other as the bright morning light makes it seem like a heavenly place.

"I've always been told I'm like a duck, so maybe they think I'm a bird instead of a girl too," I smooth out my dress, continuing to walk through the sanctuary, taking in every lovely drop of colored sunlight. Rue smooths out my hair as well, plumping up my braid once again. "What did Mytho need?" She perks up for a moment, but leads me down a pale brown hallway towards a door at the end.

"Oh, the silly boy just forgot where your room was. Needed to put your backpack down and forgot where the guest rooms are. It's a new house, after all," She opens it and guides us into another large room, glittering white marble lines the floor. Mirrors go from the floor to ceiling on two of the large walls. The room, while pure white, almost seems to glitter a pale pink from the large outdoor window. It must be beautiful to dance in here at dawn. "You know how boys are, always forgetting the simple things." I feel her hold my hand, starting to dance with me in this beautiful room. Recollections of dancing with her in class make me smile. She was cold before, and her dancing was meant to overpower her partner. But dancing with her now, I notice how equal her dancing is to mine. She is more knowledgeable, but she's not condescending, instead she is happy to be my partner as I manage to keep better time with her. Even in this happiness, I halt rather abruptly. A question pops out from my mouth, needing to know her intellectual thoughts.

"Rue," My voice is timid, but she still stops to look at me. "How can I tell if I like someone?" My toes start fidgeting in my shoes and my head feels heavy, curving my gaze to the glistening floor. The air becomes still again, and I can hear the clatter of Rue's hard shoes against the floor. Her hand finds its way to my shoulder, walking with me to enter the rest of the house. It's just as beautiful as the outside, with lovely dark wood paneling on every wall, rustic decorations placed liberally around the walls, and the maroon floor doesn't creak with wear and strain as we come up a set of dark brown stairs. She finally manages to articulate her thoughts.

"Well, that's a bit complex. Everyone has different ways of falling in love, and no two people do it the same way." Rue leads me down a rather short hallway, pulling up to a door with a small plaquette reading 'Guest Room 2'. "This one's your room," Her maternal tone is comforting as she leads me instead, closing the door behind us.

Inside is magnificent. It feels like a living room with the accommodations and space. In the back center is an extremely large canopy king bed, soft yellow fabric draping around it to conceal the fluffy white pillows and blankets. Bookshelves line one wall opposite a black loveseat and matching coffee table. There's large windows lined behind the pastel pink blackout curtains. A large and feminine oak wardrobe stands guard next to an open doorway that leads into a baby blue, ivory soaked bathroom. My backpack is resting up against the doorframe, seemingly untouched.

"Why do you ask? Do you feel like there's someone you might like?" Rue pulls away the mesh drapes from the canopy, pulling me next to her on the bed. I feel my cheeks burn a bit, unsure how to really express the words. Instead, I shrug my shoulders.

"Maybe? I don't know, he's been in my head for months, and I'm scared I'm overthinking the little times we've had together." I rest my back on the bed, sinking into the comfortable and plump blankets. She nods for a moment then patting my thigh very gently remarks.

"Well, I think anyone would be lucky to have someone as beautiful and lovely as you fall in love with them, Ahiru," She turns to look at me, her sweet birdsong-like voice making me feel safe. I roll myself, pressing against her legs and hugging. "You're very kind and passionate. A tad awkward at times, but that's just who you are." She taps one of my shoulders, and I gaze up at her. Her long black hair compliments that sweet, glowing face. Her brown eyes gleam with red undertones as the sunlight pools into them, making her look like a beautiful glistening Raven. I thank her, nervously hugging her legs.

"Of course. Now, I'll let you get cleaned up. We're having lunch in about an hour." Rue stands up, pointing at the open doorway beside the wardrobe. "I'll come up and get you when lunch is ready, so just enjoy the room for a little, and don't leave. There's plenty of books for you to read, towels and soaps are also stocked in the bathroom. I have something for you when I come back." She winks playfully as she gives me another quick hug before sauntering out and closing the door behind herself. The bed keeps me rooted into its warm paws, so comfortable and affectionate as I cuddle into the sea of pale sunflower colored comforters. I tilt my head to face the ocean tinted bathroom. Finally uprooting myself from my comfortable bed. I take off my shoes and step past the open doorway. The stained glass windows refract blue waves of light all around me, submerging the entire milky bathroom in blue. A large standalone tub sits on golden paws with a matching lion head faucet. There's an enclosed shower with a long counter and sink beside it, complete with a toothbrush, toothpaste, towels, shampoo and conditioner, soap, everything I could think that a bathroom needs.

I strip down to nothing, placing a towel next to the arrangement of pure white lilies, unaffected by the blue hues. I walk over to the large tub as my feet still sting, staring at my milky reflection. I smile, pulling on the little faucet handles for hot water. I let the bath fill to the point of almost spilling with my own little sudsy bath. Tying up my hair into a neat bun, I slip in one foot at a time, sliding down until water and bubbles float up to my face, lining my cheeks, nose, and lips with soft and tickling suds; I'm finally calm, alone with my own thoughts in this beautiful place. My mind is at ease, not worrying about Antoinette, Victor, Wayland, or Fakir. I'm completely void of my anxiety for once. I float in the water for a bit, just consumed by the comforting warmth. I run the bar of rose smelling soap over my legs, chest, arms, and neck, lathering and humming along to the little tune in my mind.

After I finish washing myself and a few long minutes of just enjoying the floating feeling, I unplug the bath. Stepping out and wrapping myself in the soft towel and drying thoroughly, there's something peaceful in the air. Something serene in this place

Unwrapping myself from the towel as I fold it on the counter and put back on my previous clothes. I twirl around the room, laying down on the loveseat and giggling to myself. It doesn't even feel entirely real, like I'm in a storybook. I pull the curtain back for a moment, staring at the glistening private lake, a small pier floating atop the water.

"Ahiru?" Rue's voice calls from outside the thin wood door. "Can I come in?"

"I'm clothed, you don't have to worry," I giggle, laying back on the bed. My door creaks open and she gathers towards the looming wardrobe.

"Good, I have an outfit for you to try on," She says, and I pull myself to the wardrobe, watching her swing its hatches open. It's filled to the brim with colorful clothes, ranging from floor-length ball gowns to a leotard and mesh skirt combination. Even so, Rue manages to immediately pinpoint a specific dress out of the seemingly hundreds of outfits brimming from the delicate wood.

It's a short, pale blue dress. It's only about three inches above my knees, with the bottom flaring out. Rue places it against my chest, beckoning me to try it on, and I listen to her, changing in the bathroom. I try adjusting it, feeling my chest become more pronounced from just how tight the fabric is. As soon as I step out, Rue smiles at me again, jovially hugging me once more.

"How do you always look so cute in everything you wear?" She brushes my hair back, stepping away to get a perfect look at me, kissing my forehead very lightly. In that second that her lips meet my forehead, there's a familiar tingle in my arms. She really is like my mom, I realize. She's so caring and sweet, so gentle and loving with me.

"Probably because you always know what looks nice on me." Rue smiles and takes my hand as we walk down the stairs, joking for me to stop flattering her. I can hear more voices from another room. Mytho and someone else. I raise an eyebrow, looking at Rue confusedly. She squeezes my hand, knowing my concern and dissipating it in that moment. I hear the voices getting louder as we approach a rather light door that seems to be a den or living room. There's laughing, joking, an enjoyable atmosphere that emanates from the room that Rue is leading me towards.

"You have got to be kidding! Even in the private showers?" Mytho laughs, the other voice laughing as well, responding jovially.

"It happens way more often than you think, teenage girls are extremely ballsy," The voice laughs, a hearty, full, joyful laugh. It's familiar in a way I don't want to believe. My face glows like a red star as Rue nudges me, softly whispering to me.

"Are you really that nervous?" She looks at my hand, softly squeezing me. I realize my hand is slicked with sweat, my fingers trembling as I swallow. I let go, wiping my sweat off onto my thighs.

"A little bit," I croak, my voice still quiet as I hear the men from behind the door continue speaking and laughing, their conversation little more than jumbled sounds to my nervous brain. Rue smiles, reassuring me that she'll grab me in a moment. She slips in with not a single sound, keeping the door ever so slightly ajar as I hear them all talking about pleasantries. Rue finally clears her throat and I peer a bit more through the door. I can still see Mytho and Rue, but the other person is obstructed, even though instinctively I know who it is.

"So you know how we said we have a surprise?" Mytho chimes to the person beside him. The person takes another sip of whatever he's been drinking from his glass cup.

"Right, you mentioned that quite frequently in your letters." He responds and I watch as Rue turns towards the door, motioning me forward. He chuckles, "Did you finally cave and get me a puppy?" Rue takes my arm very lightly in her delicate fingers, helping me walk through the door.

"Even better." She chimes, pulling me into her side as I stare at Fakir, utterly shocked to even see me. "We brought you a Duck!"


	10. Chapter 10

Fakir practically jumps out of his seat, staring me down with his cheeks far more red than usual. He looks from Mytho to Rue, both of them looking rather smug, proud of themselves for this elaborate scheme. I shuffle back a bit, equally as concerned and confused.

"Is this some sick, twisted joke? Is she like a moving wax figure?" Fakir trots up to me, looking me over and pinching one of my rosy cheeks. I flutter back from his rough hands, nervously pressed to an invisible wall. Mytho chimes in, excitedly announcing.

"Nope! You two are here for a full three weeks, so get used to it, or else we are gonna have some problems!" Mytho rings brightly, though his words are very threatening. Rue and Mytho begin snuggling together on a comfortable looking dark leather couch on the other side of the room. I trot back a few more paces until my back presses against the door, desperately wanting to escape as my hand inches for the knob. Rue smiles at us both, motioning for us to sit down.

"Now you two stop being so awkward. You know each other well enough, so there's nothing wrong in spending a couple weeks together. Especially since we will make sure you two enjoy yourselves," Rue remarks, her words also a thinly veiled thread. Mytho softly kisses her brightly colored cheek, and I nervously sit in one of the plush chairs, fully taking in the rather large seating area, complete with a fireplace and ample decorum surrounding us. Fakir sits in the one opposite, not even glancing at me. Mytho watches us for a moment, before standing up with Rue and announcing that he's going to go and check on lunch. Rue follows behind him as they quickly pace into the other room. It's a long and uncomfortable silence between us, as we refuse to look at each other, not a single word exchanged.

"So…" I finally chime, not wanting to be in this uncomfortable silence any longer. "You didn't know anything about this?"

"Does that really seem like a smart question to ask right now?" His voice is shaky and brusque as he still refuses to look at me. "Of course I didn't know about any of this. If I did, I wouldn't be here right now," I look at the floor, nervously fidgeting with my dress. So that's how he feels.

"Agreed," I get a better look at him, my eyes taking him in for once. He's wearing a suave looking white button down and dark pants, making him almost look like a Prince. "You look nice today," I awkwardly add before staring back down at my feet as I internally abuse myself for the stupid comment. Of course he looks nice, Mytho probably got him those clothes just for this occasion. Aside from that, he looks nice every day. He pauses and looks at me.

"So do you," His voice is noticeably less hostile. I perk up, looking over at him. He doesn't look any kinder, but he's definitely a little less agitated at this situation. I grin over at him, watching him turn away from me to take another swig from his glass. He's still getting softer towards me, I tell myself. He glances back, furrowing his brows as he swallows. "What's with that stupid smile on your face?"

"You're being nice to me again." I wag my pointer finger at him. He groans, downing the last of his drink and staring at the door Rue and Mytho had left through, probably yearning for their return at this point.

"You read too much into things." he rests the glass against the coffee table.

"Are you sure that you being nice to me is really me just reading into things?" I stick my tongue out at him, turning to face away from him, instead looking at the windows facing the lake.

"Not necessarily, but when you have that dorky face, it's easy to see you're thinking too hard." He smirks.

"What's wrong about my face?" I squish my cheeks, staring at a family of swans swim across the lake. Fakir looks over at me, his cheeks flushed as he finally responds, sinking into his chair.

"Nothing's wrong with it. You've got…" He hesitates, thinking about his words for a moment. "You've got a very nice face, if I'm honest," He smiles at me for a brief moment. "It's very pretty," We're alone and he's sweet again. Not completely alone, but alone enough for me to see the tough exterior crumble a little. But as soon as the door even creaks, his kindness dissipates. Mytho and Rue reenter with hard boiled eggs, bread, and plenty of fruit, something that definitely shouldn't have taken them as long as they took. Rue places down the tray on the small coffee table between us all. I watch Fakir start snacking on one of the oranges.

"So, you two aren't yelling at each other yet." Mytho chimes, taking a bite of one of the bitter grapefruits. "That's a positive."

"What?" Fakir bites back at Mytho. "Were you expecting us to bicker this early on?"

"Well, you two really didn't get along until recently," Rue chimes, flashing a cheeky smile at us. "It's like you've got a soft spot for her Fakir," I can feel the sheer amount of embarrassment emanating off of Fakir as he almost chokes on his food.

"There's no soft spot anywhere in me, she's the one with all the stupid soft spots," He responds and points at me, tone flat as ever, continuing to eat. I nibble softly on one of the grapefruits, drinking the juice from it. She smiles at Fakir's anger, sauntering up to him and whispering something in his ear, resuming her place on the couch next to Mytho. Fakir sits up a bit, mouth agape as though to say something, but he shrinks back, folding his arms. "When you say it like that, anything I say will be used as fuel against me." I cock my head to Rue, coyly asking what she had said, though she just waves it off.

"It's adult things, honey, don't worry." She giggles, and Fakir slinks down further, not looking at anyone.

"I need another drink," He mutters to himself.

"You've already had two," Mytho stands up, pulling Fakir to stand. "Plus, you still need to duel me like, and if you're drunk it won't be a fair fight," I watch the boys stand up, and begin heading outside, beginning to banter and playfully argue.

"You're right, I'm better when I'm drunk, so I'll leave it as fair to you, Mytho," Fakir pats his back, and I hear them both laughing jovially as they walk outside. Rue takes my hand, leading me behind them and explaining a bit more thoroughly.

"They get into sword fights every time they're near one another." She weaves her arm into mine, pulling me next to her as we find our way outside, close to the little lake. We sit on a quaint little bench surrounded by bushes and flowers under the house's shade. Each one of the men is now wielding a sword on their hip from a selection beside the house.

Mytho pulls out the long silver sword, the hilt brandished with royal purple and gold, pointing it at Fakir. Fakir returns the gesture, though his sword is much less festive than Mytho's. Both glint and glitter in the sunlight, and Rue snuggles close to me, clearly invested.

Fakir waits, patiently smiling at Mytho, starting to circle around one another, taunting each other playfully.

"That's a mighty fine sword you have. Look's pretty, your highness." Fakir sarcastically taunts, as Mytho smirks. Mytho strikes first and I hear the loud clashing of metal against metal, clanging together. They dance against each other, swords slamming together, barely inches from each other's faces.

"Mighty fine girlfriend you have on the bench, Fakir. Are you trying to impress her? Maybe get a kiss from her after this match?" Mytho smiles as they dance, catching Fakir completely off guard. I watch Mytho as he strikes Fakir down, quickly disarming and pinning him to the ground.

"You lowered your guard for a split second," Mytho chuckles, moving his sword back and smiling as he steps back to his original position.

"You're playing dirty, that's all that it was. Catching me off guard like that," Fakir growls, standing up and demanding a round two. Rue cheers them on, leaning her head on my shoulder, cheering Mytho on.

They dance around each other again for a couple more moments. Mytho opens his mouth, though Fakir strikes shortly after. Mytho catches it, the clang of their swords ringing in the air again. My eyes widen in pure intrigue as I watch them caught in a long and powerful dance, swords clanging together loudly in the warm air. Taunts still bellow from their lungs, loud and brash and playful. It's practically indescribable how they move together. Fakir strikes again, his sword knocking Mytho onto the ground this time. Mytho smiles back up at him.

"I see," Mytho wipes his forehead and they shake hands.

"That I'm a better fighter?" Fakir chuckles, sheathing his sword.

"No, that you fight harder when your pretty girl is watching," Mytho sheaths his as well, and watches Fakir try to nervously shrug it off. Mytho stares over at me and Rue, smiling even more kindly than before.

"You just love to push my buttons, don't you?" Fakir groans to Mytho as we all start walking back inside, agreeing with him. Mytho nudges his shoulder, whispering something as Rue ambles up to Mytho, bumping Fakir behind her and thus, next to me. I watch as Rue and Mytho enter first, leaving Fakir and I alone. Looking up at him, I watch beads of sweat roll down his flushed face. His hair is messy and tossed about as his gentle hands slowly fix it. He looks down at me, smiling weakly. "I'll be back. I'm just going to change."

I nod and watch him head back inside, while I just stagnate back, wanting to look at that clear lake. Drifting myself over to the body, I let half my calves rest in the lake from the end of the pier, watching fallen leaves drift across the sleek surface, small ripples coming from their touch. My legs make ripples as well, rifts in the water as I move them back and forth, splashing lightly as cold water starts to drip down from my calves. I close my eyes, listening to the simple sounds of nature as I lay back on the warm wood. It reminds me of a simple time, a time with those ducks by the lake. When I was small and innocent, and when the world wasn't falling apart. I hear the back door reopen, sitting up and turning to look at Fakir walks towards me. He's wearing the same pants, only now it's complimented by a dark blue shirt. As he sits beside me, I scoot away from him, not wanting to make him feel claustrophobic, though he waves off my hesitation.

"I'm not gonna bite you, no need to scamper off, Duckling." His voice is calm. "Mytho and Rue are going out for food and other things, and urged me to stay outside with you so you don't drown, or something." He looks out onto the lake as he cuffs his pants and dipping his bare calves down into it, smiling as the waves lap over one another. I push against his shoulder playfully.

"You act like I can't swim," I tease him watching him wobble back into place.

"If it's you, you'll definitely find a way to either hurt yourself or die, no matter what it is." He laughs, making my heart sing. I laugh back, if not to simply hear him continue. "You're probably just as buoyant as an anchor," I lean over the pier, watching our reflections distort in the ripples.

"Wanna bet then?"

"Bet on what? You not being able to swim?"

"What else?" I offer, standing with my back facing the water. He thinks about it for a long moment, shrugging his shoulders.

"Why not? If you drown it's not my fault," he lays his back on the warm wood of the pier.

I smile, leaping into the cold water. I submerge myself under the water for a bit, my bangs and braid floating freely underneath. As I open my eyes, I notice how clear the water truly is, letting small bubbles of oxygen float to the top of the water from my lips. I let myself swim around in bliss before popping my head above the water, smiling at Fakir. He blinks at me, watching me swim and smirking at me. He folds his arms and leans down close to my face.

"I'll be damned. You're comfortable down there, aren't you?" He mutters to me, lifting my chin by his thumb and forefinger ever so lightly. I giggle and pull back, gently tugging on his ankle.

"Come on in, the water is great!" I smile up at him, though he moves his leg out from the water.

"I'd prefer not to, I've already had one shower, no need for a bath." He remarks, coldly. I grimace and pull my top half onto the wooden planks, pulling my dress off and holding it out to him.

"Can you at least take this from me? I don't want to ruin it," I groan, still trying to reach it. Fakir grabs hold of it, ready to pull it from me. Though as soon as we both hold onto the fabric, I submerge him down in the water with me. I watch, my face halfway under the water, smiling at him. He glares me down but acquiesces, pulling me underwater with him. I watch him start swimming towards me and I dip underwater playfully, trying to avoid him. Fakir pulls me back to him, grabbing hold of my bare thigh from under the water and turning me to face him. He's grinning, his cheeks red and his hair floating everywhere. I smile back at him as he pulls us up, gasping for breath. His hand is gently running over mine and itching to hold onto mine.

"You're a demon sometimes," He groans in high-spirits, pulling hair away from his face so he can see me clearly. I rest my hand in his palm, twining our fingers together. "You know that, right?" He squeezes it, his other hand holding the small of my waist. I feel his chest against mine, pressing against my clingy bra. I squeeze his hand back, leaning myself up a little bit. His breath is sweet, that hint of rum just barely even on his lips. I smirk up at him, my free hand holding onto the back of his neck.

"Oh trust me, I'm very much a devil," I coo, sticking out my tongue at him. I feel Fakir pull us under the wooden pier, staying out of sight from the house. I peer my head over as Fakir does the same. I don't see anyone in the house. "What are we looking for?"

"I don't trust them not to try and watch us. They live for this sort of thing." His growl is sexual, almost. I feel a tingle run up my spine, starting to inch a bit closer to him. His hands squeeze again.

"What sort of things?" I feel his hand move up my spine, hand climbing up under my bra. His gentle fingers start tugging at it, making my face burn up even brighter. He leans in a bit closer to my face, tilting my head a bit. He releases his hand and my bra strap smacks hard against my back, making me squeak and scamper away. He snickers, swimming up from under the pier and starting for the house.

"I want you to take a wild guess." His voice rings clear as I watch him walk onto the grass, dripping wet as his clothes stick to his toned body. I lurk just barely above the surface, watching his clothes cling to him, emphasizing every little muscle. I lurk below the water for a bit for the blue dress I had worn just earlier. I bob up to the surface, gasping for air, before plunging back down to look for it again. But it's nowhere underwater that I can see. Popping my head back up, I shout at Fakir who's now shirtless.

"Hey, could you um… Maybe get me a towel or something..?" My voice is sheepish. He raises an eyebrow to me.

"Why? You can dry off when you get inside." He remarks, removing his pants as well and placing them on the bench. His boxers cling even tighter to his skin and I immediately look away, not ready to be confronted with that kind of definition. My face burns brightly as I step out, letting him see my pale, shivering, and nearly nude body, only censored by the clingy underwear I have on.

"I lost that dress." I sheepishly cover my breasts, feeling the cold air against me, making my own underwear cling to me. For once he doesn't look away from me as if I'm an embarrassment to the female figure. Instead just staring for a good few moments, his cheeks rising to a light shade of pink. He gulps before quickly jogging inside, trying his best not to look at me anymore.

"I'll be back with that towel you wanted." I hear the door slam behind him and I slip back into water, at the very least masking my figure to a degree. I move my hands around under the water, making small waves into the water and watching my ripples affect the small leaves drifting across, watching them tremble up and down. I hear the back door open, with a pair of loose fitting pants and a tight shirt on, now carrying a towel towards me. I reach out and thank him as I wrap it around my figure.

"You need to be careful with that," Fakir chuckles as I tightly wrap the warm and soft blanket over myself.

"Careful with what? The body of a twelve year old?" I snicker and start for the house.

"What?" He's seemingly taken aback by my comment, sweetly responding. "No, you've grown into a very mature body that suits you. Be careful with that power." I slow down a bit to look at him, my face burning red.

"You sure you're the real Fakir?" I stand on my toes and squeeze his cheeks with both my hands, pulling his hair away and tucking it behind his ear. He smirks and rolls his eyes as we head up the stairs.

"Oh no, you've caught me. I'm really some complete stranger who's into little ginger girls. Let me show you my private room." Fakir smiles, as we head down the same short hallway. I stop in front of my door, staring up at him.

"I knew it," I giggle, opening up my door a peek. "Where's your room, Mister Not-Fakir?"

"Right here." He knocks on the door behind him, labelled 'Guest Room 1'. I peek behind him.

"Mind if I see the inside?"

"What, so you can come inside and pester me in my sleep again?" He opens his door anyway, letting me step inside of the much darker room, though still relatively similar to mine. The only real differences are the bed (no longer a canopy, instead having dark red sheets and grey pillows), and a long row of swords next to the large, dark brown bookshelf. Looking around, I feel Fakir snap my bra strap again, making me squeak again. "Now show me yours,"

I stick my tongue out at him, but lead him into mine, returning the favor he gave me. I step into my bathroom as he looks around the room, pulling off my soaked bra and panties while facing away from him, before stepping into the short nightgown and clean panties that Rue had left me. So she must have at least seen me jump into the lake, which means she might know I'm.

"Looks pretty. I'm gonna guess Mytho designed it," I hear Fakir from the doorway, though his voice isn't directed at me. Looking back at him, I see him starting to pull away through the see-through canopy. He lays himself on my bed, his legs hanging off. I watch the bottom of his shirt lift up a slight amount, seeing a trail of soft, dark hair trailing up to his naval. In my mind, I want to kiss those pronounced hips that peek out from his pants. Touch his soft skin and explore what's underneath all those tight clothes. I shake my head, looking at his wistful eyes, beckoning me to lay with him.

"You seem off, something wrong?" Fakir sits up. Inside my mind I'm screaming, wanting to tell him everything I had just been thinking about. But I don't, instead just laying down on my stomach beside him.

"I'm just having weird feelings, in all honesty," The bed pulls me into it, friendly arms snuggling me into their tight grip. He turns my head to face him, curious as to what I mean.

"Oh?" He pushes hair from my face. "Can you describe what they feel like?" His fingers trace around my jaw. I swallow a hard lump in my throat. Should I tell him? Should I just be honest about how I feel right now? Last time I did that was an astounding rejection, that I still don't know how to feel about. I look up at him, those green eyes glinting in the weaning light. Something honestly kind in those eyes.

"It's a really warm feeling in my chest. It's between my legs sometimes too. But it's just… It never goes away, really." I murmur, turning so as not to look at him, trying not to reveal too much. He starts undoing my braid, combing through the red threads with his fingers, letting all of it flow down my back.

"Uh-huh. And is that it?"

"Well, it only really happens when I do anything with this one person. Or when I think about them. And I wish it would go away a lot of the time." I stay silent for a few moments, trying not to look at him. I hear him stand up, closing the door, and returning to our positions before. His fingers run through my hair again, the very tips trailing against my back. A tingle runs up my spine, and this time he notices it.

"Does it make you feel good at all?" His voice is suddenly smooth and suave, ringing in my ear like a bell. There's that warm feeling in my chest, just like I described, glowing and beating like a drum. And right beneath his fingers, I know he's pulling the strings to it. Not maliciously, though. He's egging it on, wanting to know more.

"A little bit," I downplay it as much as I can, turning my gaze to him. He's smiling, his fingers playing with my heartstrings a little more.

"Well, maybe you should tell that person how you feel. I'm sure they'd understand,"

"Words wouldn't be able to describe it well enough. Besides, Anty says that it's a lot better to show people how you feel rather than say it," I flip myself over, staring up at him fully. He looks at me, puzzled and a bit concerned.

"While I agree with the sentiment, I don't trust how she probably means it." Fakir brushes more loose strands, his smile more of a thin frown, pulling at the edges of his mouth.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, how did she describe 'showing how you feel'?" He asks, making my face flush a bright red. I can't tell him that she just described how to give head or handjobs. That's weird. Fakir raises an eyebrow.

"Just like… I dunno, doing favors when that person feels bad." I turn my face away yet again, shrugging off his comment as my fingers start lacing through my hair. I'm all tingly again, why am I tingly? His hand presses against my thigh and I freeze.

"Like, sexual favors? Handjobs, blowjob's, sex?" He leans over top of me, his warm gentle hand sliding up and tugging at the hem of my nightgown. My face begins feeling feverish.

"So what if that was what she said? There's nothing wrong with that, is there?" I sigh, folding my arms. His hand slides over my dress, before running one down my arm, then both hands running down my arms. He fills in little spaces between my fingers as our hands meet with his, leaning himself over top of me, straddling his hips over mine.

"You do know that showing affection isn't just sex, right?" His hands squeeze mine, kissing my knuckles and watching me. I stare, wide eyed and confused.

"But, that's how most people show their affection, right?"

"Sometimes. But sometimes it's just holding hands, small conversations, enjoying each other's company. Small things like that." Fakir smiles, letting go of both of my hands, heading towards his room. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to take a shower thanks to you and your games."

"Thanks to me?" I tease, watching his hips again. The brief glance I had at those tight boxers makes my imagination run wild. He turns around, smugly watching me.

"You dragged me into that water, of course it's thanks to you." He smiles and closes my door. "I'll get you if Mytho and Rue aren't home by dinner, so don't worry about starving. Just don't expect much cooking out of me,"

Smiling, I slip my fingers back together, trying to recreate the mingling sweetness of him holding my hands. That tender squeeze of my hands. I squeak and bury my face into my pillow. Thrusting myself under the covers, the warm bubbling feeling doesn't go away. It's pressed like a warm ball squishing between my thighs, laying me face down and spread-eagle into my sheets. Hand holding? That's all it takes to turn me on at this point? I groan into my pillow, trying not to think about it.

Laying there, I manage to reduce the sensitive shivers to nothing more than small tingles in my toes. I still feel his gentle hands pulling through my hair, his fingers trailing down my back, barely away from the small of my back. He's teasing me isn't he? Is he trying to tempt me? He keeps coming very close to kissing me, and I can't help but want to reach up and do it myself the next time he tries it. I sit and adjust my gown a bit.

With some minor internal trepidation, I step myself out of bed, sliding my feet against the hardwood floor. I pull my en pointe shoes out, slipping them each onto my feet and lacing them up neatly. As I find my position, I take a long and deep breath. It's time to try my best once again. My feet carry me across the floor, as my nightgown flutters around me.

I am the Beauty, and my heart belongs to the beast. His exterior is hard, rough, uncomfortable to hold close for a long time. But inside he is gentle, kind, affectionate. He just needs the right person to let him open up. He just needs someone to show him affection. Not to fix him, since there's nothing wrong with him. Instead, to love him for who he is regardless of his flaws, his rough exterior, the outer shell he shows to people, and for both of us to flourish into better people. I start my fouette, pivoting over and over again. I keep going, counting each one in my head and under my breath. It doesn't take very long until I feel dizzy and sick, starting to stumble back. A pair of hands reaches underneath my arms, keeping me from falling on my back. They're gentle as they catch me.

"Easy, easy. Don't hurt yourself, there." His voice drifts into my ears, and I'm pressed against his body. My stomach turns and I feel myself keep stumbling back. "Hey, you're okay. Easy does it," He lifts me up to my feet again, adjusting my nightgown. Fakir steps back into the doorway and I smirk at him, still a little dizzy. His hair is slick with dripping water, while a towel drapes over his shoulder, still wearing the same outfit from earlier.

"How long have you been here?" I resume first position, and I feel his hands help straighten me out.

"Long enough to know you still don't remember proper form." He steps back, letting me resume my dance, watching me until he interrupts again. "Is this really your final?"

"I'm trying my best," Stepping out of position, I shrug and pull out the notes I made from my backpack. "I'm trying to do my dance based on Beauty and The Beast," He pulls them from my hand and reads them from his place in the door, raising an eyebrow. He glances over to me, looking me up and down.

"Seems kind of complex for you, don't you think?"

"If I get really into it, I know I can do it. I've done it before." I stand firm and smile wide, my hands planted on my hips. Fakir smiles and saunters towards me.

"Let me at least help you then, so you don't fall and crack your skull open." He stands behind me, placing the paper on top of my backpack, and holding my waist. Finally, I remember whose hands held me steady in my room when I danced alone. Fakir's chest presses against my back, his hands keeping me still in his grip. His hands taking in every inch of my body as we dance in the large room. It reminds me of The Prince and The Raven performance. He was this gentle back then too.

"Alright, now," He smiles and places my feet in position for my fouette. "Keep your eyes on me until you can't any longer. Now turn."

I was going to listen, whether he said that or not. The world starts to blur when I look away from him. One, two, three… I feel myself become dizzy around the thirteenth one, falling into his arms. He catches me and holds me close to his chest. His heart isn't still at all as it's pressed to my ear. It's rapidly pounding in his chest, slamming my own into my throat. I look up at him, the rest of the room spinning around us. Maybe it was just from me being dizzy, but I pretend it's because he's the only thing that matters. He stands me back up on my feet, smiling as those green eyes pull me in.

"You're being nice to me again," I wrap my arms over his shoulder, I feel him press his forehead against mine, our lips getting closer and closer by the moment, still looking into each other's eyes. He smiles and gently rubs the tips of our noses together.

"I know." That smooth, silky voice. So vulnerable and raw in this moment. This is who Fakir is, in all glorious kindness.

"Should I show you how I feel, like how we were saying earlier?" I gulp, forcing my heart down my throat, even though I know he can feel it throbbing against him, in my fingertips and my chest. He pulls his face back for a moment, looking down at me and keeping a silence for a moment.

"Are you sure you want to trust me?" He mutters very softly, a hint of concern in his throat. I return the little Eskimo kisses, nodding my head very gently, hesitant to say no now that I'm in this deep.

"You're really playing with fire, you know that?" He moves a bit closer.

"I know," I smile, leaning up a bit more, able to taste his sweet breath, the slightest hint of rum against my lips. I feel as his hands sweep me up, holding me bridal style in his arms, making me shriek, holding onto him tighter. He carries me into his room, laying me on his bed and towering above me. My heart starts pounding as he finally leans down, fingers running through my hair as he kisses me. Every little cell in my body is now dedicated to this kiss. I run my fingers through his hair, trying to be as close as possible to him, as his hands weave underneath my nightgown.

As we keep kissing, he pulls my hips to the edge of the bed, lifting my dress up just a bit to ogle the soft pink panties I'm wearing. Pulling away and looking down, I notice something pushing from inside his pants. He gently presses his hips against mine, and I feel it flex a few times, sending a jolt through my spine. I freeze up as I stare up at him, nervously gulping. I don't know if I'm ready for this, but I'm already chest deep in this, aren't I? I hide my face into Fakir's shoulder, desperate to not show any hesitation, not to even hint I want out. I'd just be a tease then. His hands pull out from under my nightgown and his hips pull away from mine, instead just gently kissing me again. Soft, still emotional and loving.

"You're a real idiot sometimes, you know that?" He says lightly, laying beside me on his bed, letting his head rest on the sheets.

"I'm not an idiot!" I nervously try and retort, fidgeting with the hem of my dress.

"You were about to have sex that you didn't want. Don't you think that's a little dumb?" His voice is still light and loving as he twirls my hair around his finger. I huff and my cheeks flush even brighter reds.

"I wanted it!"

"No, you don't." I think it over for a moment, shrinking into his side as I whisper into his shirt.

"Maybe not that, but I want something with you…" I feel my stomach overload with butterflies. What did I mean by that? What does he think I want now? Fakir turns his body to face me, his hand trailing up my thigh. I do my best not to hesitate.

"If you're so adamant, we'll do 'something'. But it'll be baby steps for you." He stands over me again, squeezing my inner thigh tightly. I cup a hand over my mouth, though I feel his own free hand pulling it away and gently kissing me, to muffle me better as his other hand presses against my panties, gently starting to rub against my clit through the soft fabric. Shiver after shiver runs up my spine, making me weaker to his touch. His tongue opens my mouth up and suddenly there's a strange ecstacy coursing through me. He pulls away to look down at me, slipping aside my underwear, leaving me a little cold.

"I'm just going to put my finger in. Is that okay?" He seems to be sweating just as much as I am, and my cheeks turn a brighter red. I gulp and nod my head.

"Just be gentle with me, okay?" I say, timidly. His middle finger slips inside, filling a void I didn't know I had. It's gentle and firm as he thrusts it, hooking against a sensitive little spot as he pumps very gently back and forth. Another sexual rush runs through me, though I feel my body tense up around him. His lips press against my collar, softly sucking on my pale skin. His free hand manages my bare clit, softly massaging it. My own hands gripping onto the bed, unsure what else to do with them as the pleasure overwhelms me.

This is so much better than when I thought about it all on my own, when I was just pretending he was there. His hands are far more experienced than I gave him credit for. I whimper into the increasingly warm air, moans and hushed curses slipping past my lips as I feel myself verging, barely on the cusp of an orgasm. Fakir's lips move up to my neck as I whimper a bit louder.

"Fakir, I'm gonna…" I murmur as butterflies fill my stomach. He rubs my clit a bit faster, his other hand still pushing in and out of me.

"Come on, Ahiru. Please cum for me," He desperately pleads as I hold onto his back, tensing up against his fingers, cumming all over those gentle and rhythmic fingers. The surge of butterflies through my stomach makes me moan a lot louder than I feel I should have, but I can't help it. My knees want to knock together instinctively, to keep his hands there for the long few seconds I last, moaning out his name into the air.

He pulls his fingers away from me, smiling down as he licks them clean. My face burns brightly and I begin panting anxiously, curling up on his bed in embarrassment as I bury my face into his pillow. He chuckles and pats my back lovingly, laying beside me as I recover from the intense sensations in my entire body.

"I didn't expect that." I huff and shiver, staring at his pillows in a daze. I actually came from him touching me. His fingers were actually inside of me, and it felt good. I turn to look at him, watching him as he smiles.

"What? To cum?" He snickers. "What were you expecting? For it to be painful?" He pulls me into his arms as I'm snuggled into his chest, letting his pounding heartbeat be an indication of how he feels.

"I guess. I just didn't expect you to… I dunno, actually get to do it." I snuggle my face into his chest, trying to hide the shades of red I know that I am. His lips press against the top of my head, kissing me yet again.

"Well, stuff like that isn't supposed to hurt. And yeah, you got to do it. It's a lot less scary now, isn't it?"

"Mhm," I wrap my arms over his sides, snuggling tighter into him. "Did it mean anything to you?" I turn my head to look up at him, watching him shrug.

"Well, what do you think? Do I seem like the playboy type?" Fakir pushes hair out of my face. I snuggle my head into the palm of his hand, ready to answer, to spill my heart out to him. Though I hear the front door of the house open, and Fakir groans at the inconvenience. He runs a hand through his hair, standing us both up. "I'll come into your room after dinner, okay? We can talk more then." He promises me, holding up his pinky to me. I smile and wrap mine around his, promising it. He fixes me up a little, going to open his door when there's a knock on the other side. Both of us freeze as Mytho opens it up.

"Fakir! We're back, and we need your help with dinner, please!" Mytho doesn't even seem to be phased by my presence in Fakir's room, or that the door was previously shut. He just smiles at both of us holding up a cloth bag with fruits and vegetables. I nervously grin at him watching as Fakir just lets out a long sigh.

"Are you telling me you need me to slice things again?"

"Not necessarily." Mytho muses, beckoning him downstairs. Fakir follows behind him. "But yes, I do."

"You can sword fight like a true prince, and yet you slice your fingers every time you even try to cut anything other than test dummies." Fakir playfully groans to Mytho, with me following behind them closely. I watch Fakir turn to face me, smiling at me. And I smile back at him, a genuine smile that I can see makes his chest tighten from how sweet it is. He seems blissfully unaware of how much I like him. And, to a small and sad degree, I hope it stays that way.


	11. Chapter 11

Dinner comes and passes in near silence as the night is filled with friendly banter. Everything seems normal as I lean back in my chair in the lavish dining hall. I stand from my seat, thanking them for the food and stepping back into the kitchen to clean my plate. Nothing in this house is small, aside from Rue and myself. I step out back into the living room, starting up for my room. Fakir walks behind me, quiet as we sneak up to my room. As I close the door, I feel his arms wrap around me from behind, embracing me tightly.

"Is everything okay, Fakir?" I softly stroke his arms. His head moves into the crook of my neck.

"I'm perfectly fine," He murmurs, kissing my collarbone. My toes curl as he lifts me up in one arm and pulls away the mesh curtain surrounding my bed. He softly lays me down first, staring down at me and following suit as he lays down on top of me.

He leans into me a bit more, one of his thighs separating my own. Something about the breathy way he speaks to me feels off. He hadn't drank anything at dinner, I don't think. I smile, giggling a bit as I press my hands against his chest, stopping him from coming any further. He seems concerned, confused, maybe a bit of both. I kiss his cheek.

"What are you doing?" I ask, my fingers letting his waves of hair flow down his shoulders. He smiles at me, standing above me.

"Do you not believe my super convincing playboy act?"

"I think you and I know that isn't the real Fakir." I place my hand on his heart, and stand up against him, pulling away the curtains.

"What makes you say that?"

"I thought it was kind of obvious. You're trying to pretend to be this huge player when you have these big walls up so no one gets close," I wrap my arms over his shoulder, where our hearts press against each other, synchronizing in their beating. "But I think that those walls are coming down a bit now." I begin pulling him into a dance, this one another waltz. Fakir rests a hand against my lower back that continues to guide me. He's so nimble and floaty.

"You're thinking too hard again, you know that?" He smirks, his other hand cupping my cheek as he pulls me close to his face, slowing the dance little by little. Our feet still dance around the room, as he twirls and dips me.

"Am I wrong?" I feel his head press between my breasts. That faded dream of being in the ballroom together drifts into my mind as he lifts his eyes to me. Instead of just staring up at me, I feel his gentle pair of lips pressing against the thin fabric.

"I have no comment, personally." He stands us both up, turning towards the door, opening it up and strides into his room. No goodnight or farewell, he just disappears. He seems off, but I'm not going to push. Instead I just close my door, repeating the dance we did together in the cold and lonely room. It's like dancing with the clouds, so gentle and affectionate, yet almost like there's nothing there. But it's better than acknowledging I'm dancing by myself, I guess. There's soft humming music being played throughout the house, though it very well can be my imagination just wanting me to be less lonesome.

Fakir knows he's not playing me, which seems obvious. He clearly likes me more than I ever speculated. But what if he doesn't like the rest of me? What if I tell him every little detail of me, and he ends up disliking me? I sigh to myself. Maybe I do think too much.

Slipping myself under the covers, I can feel Fakir next to me, though I know he isn't. I pull one of the soft and snuggly pillows into my arms, hugging into him tightly. It doesn't smell as sweet, but it will do as best as it can. My eyes slowly shut, softly whispering into the faux temple of my soft and plush Fakir.

"I love you…"

I walk throughout my childhood house, fear and panic living inside my chest as I walk. I tiptoe, trying not to alert my dad in the living room with a group of his associates. He wanted me to just stay in my room, but I hadn't listened to him. Though the floorboards creak, and he is alerted. He stands from his chair and I begin running. My room isn't that far, I don't think. But the hallway seems like it's so long. Falling and slamming my face onto the floor, I feel tears sting my eyes, crumpling to the floor. I manage to scramble up, and throw myself into my room. My mom always told me that I needed to hide in the closet when this happened, and I listened to her. I crawl into my closet, the doors left slightly ajar by the broken bolts. I finally hear my door break open, watching my dad start for the closet, ready to swing it open.

I scurry back a bit more, until I'm pressed with my back against the wall. As soon as his hand touches the handle, I hear my mother's hopeful voice fill inside, begging him to leave me alone. I feel his voice boom throughout the tiny room, ringing hard in my mothers and my ears. My disgustingly curious eyes still watched my father scream at my mother. His hand pulled into his jacket pocket and out was a glint of silver. A glimmer of his pistol. I reached out to scream, but my hands instead cupped my mouth, keeping me silent. His arm firmed up and pointed at my mother. And then, there was a loud bang.

I jolt up, cold sweats running down every inch of my body as I feel my face. I'm still here. Nothing happened. Nothing is wrong right now, it was all just a nightmare. I can feel my skin crawling, and my body shaking. That repressed, dreaded thing decided to come out now. Now, of all times. Nothing nice lasts for me, does it?

My lungs take in shaky breaths, pooling in and out over and over again until I'm no longer shaking. I slip my feet out from beneath my sheets and start a ghostly trudge from outside of my room. Fakir's door is still closed, and the rest of the house is quiet. I've slept in the same bed as him before, it shouldn't be that weird if I just slip in with him. My hand hesitates against his door handle. I shouldn't bother him, should I? I gulp, my hands still firm on the knob. Still, it turns under my timid and sweating fingers.

I enter as quietly as I can, closing the door softly behind me. Fakir is laying in his bed, but he isn't asleep. His eyes are open, watching his door as I ender. He's not angry or even surprised that I'm awake, it seems. He simply flips open his sheets to me, silently. I nod and slip into his bed, snuggling into his bed.

"You've never had good dreams, have you?" Fakir asks softly, stroking my hair with those gentle and affectionate hands. I snuggle my face into his chest, trying not to show my weaknesses.

"Not really." I can hear his steady breaths as it comforts my shaky and unregulated ones. My arms wrap around him tightly, pulling him closer to me. I can't help but feel my ears still ring from that gun shot, from the pleadings of my mother. I can't even begin to explain to him how many of these sorts of nightmares. He keeps me pressed close to his heart.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He doesn't remove me from his chest, just letting me clutch onto him and into his gentle soul. His hands brush against the back of my head. In my anxious stupor I just shrug, asking if he's sure he can handle it. He chuckles and keeps stroking my hair.

"It takes more than a nightmare to scare me, Duckling. But don't feel like you have to say anything. I'm not here to pressure you into spilling your feelings." His voice is hushed against the top of my head, smiling through his tone. I trust him, I know he doesn't really have any reason to hurt me. And so I tell him. The entirety of that dream, that entire memory, flows from out of my mouth and into his ears. He listens without a word until the last sentence is said. We are quiet in his room as my hands just clutch tighter. He stops stroking my hair, instead just embracing me tighter into his arms. He and I just lay there in this sweet silence.

Something hauntingly nostalgic is in his arms and in this moment we share. Something utterly kind and affectionate that keeps me roped into him. That soft pounding in his chest of his heart is like a metronome to my soul. It sinks me into his body further and I realize how much I've craved this sweet feeling. I don't even realize the tears stinging my eyes until I blink, rubbing them away as I push him back.

"Sorry, I know that's probably a lot to take in." I smile up at him, still rubbing away the tears from my eyes. He lets me pull away from him, but shakes his head and helps wipe away the tears on my splotchy cheeks. The darkness is no longer all-consuming and I can see the veiled shapes of his handsome face.

"Don't be sorry. It's a lot to hold,"

"It's probably not as bad as I remember, honestly."

"Watching a parent die is terrifying. It's probably a lot worse than your poor mind can handle." He pulls me into his chest again, and I feel more tears roll down and soak his shirt. I slowly nod into him and my voice cracks as I timidly request of him.

"Please… Please don't think of me differently. I didn't want her to die… I wanted to scream and to tell the police and tell everyone what he did…"

"I know."

"I just let her die in there, Fakir. I let him get away with it. I was selfish and scared and I wish I had done anything other than freeze!"

"I know."

"I wish… I wish that I could have done anything differently."

Fakir presses his lips against my forehead, silencing me for the time being. He softly hums the little lullaby I had sung by myself in that bathroom when we were alone together. Looking up to him, I feel my cheeks flush.

"Can I say something to you?" Fakir rubs my back, calming me down a bit. I nod to him and he thinks for a long moment, pulling me into his arms. Peaceful as his raspy voice begins.

"You were ten, Ahiru. You were a just child. Children shouldn't have to feel responsible for things like that. I know you wish you could have changed it, you wish you could have saved her. You want to believe that you could have done anything. But you were a child, and you truly couldn't have done anything more than what you did. You did all that you should have, and you know what?" He pauses and kisses my cheek very gently, resting his forehead against my own. "I'm almost completely certain your mother would have been more distraught if you were the one hit by that bullet. You wouldn't be here with me. You wouldn't be here talking to me. You wouldn't have been the Ahiru that I know today if you survived that, either." His words come to me, almost as a small weight lifted from my chest. I don't want to admit he's right, but I feel it eating at me, knowing he is.

"You're a strong person. You're kind and dorky and…" He chuckles and kisses the top of my head. "And frankly one of my favorite people. And that doesn't mean you're not hurting or you don't have things you need to work on. But you have all the time in the world to work on it right now."

I cuddle my face further into his chest, nodding very slowly against him. He pulls me away, laying flat on his back and staring at the ceiling. I stare as well, out of his arms.

"You seem to know a lot about this sort of thing." I snuggle under his blankets a bit further, trying to avoid his gaze.

"I've had a bit happen in my life. I understand what it does to you." He responds, empathetic as his eyes wander to his bookshelf, closer to me. It's a lulling quiet we have together, the only sound being our breathing and the rustling of the blankets laying over us. I turn my head to face him, just clutching the blankets.

"Like what?" I ask, nervously clutching a bit tighter. He turns very slowly to look at me, his hair getting a tad messier as he speaks. There's no smile on his face, but he doesn't seem angry.

"Close to what happened to you. Both parents were killed in front of me. Random attack by a gang called the Ravens. I was a little younger than you, maybe only about six." His eyes don't really seem to wander from me, trying to comfort me. Everything feels like it drops as I hug into him again, at least for a short period of time.

"I'm so sorry." I mutter, trying to comfort him. His hands do nothing but hold me close.

"It's all okay. I'm okay."

"But you're not. You're hurting."

"I was hurting. But I'm okay now." He lets me go, letting me look at him. He's grinning very gently down at me, comforting me. But I shouldn't be comforted right now, he should be comforted.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel okay?" I caress his cheek and he holds my hand against his cheek.

"There's nothing I need. I'm okay now."

Tears begin filling my eyes as I throw off my blankets and sitting on top of his hips. I want to make him feel better. Fakir looks up at me, quirking his eyebrow as I hug into him tighter. I feel our hips press together, and I anxiously kiss his neck. This is what Antoinette said makes most men happy, and I am determined to make him happy. I fidget with the hem of my dress, unsure if I should pull it off.

"What're you doing?" He hugs me back, and I whimper into his neck.

"I don't know. I want to do something to make you happy."

"Do you think that sex will really make me happy?" His words sting a bit. I sit up and stare back down at him from my perch. He's cold as he looks up at me, his eyes narrow but his hands very gentle on my waist. I gulp nervously, maybe even in fear of his answer.

"Would it?" I ask. My fingers throb against his hands, unsure whether to move them or keep them there. He sighs and lays me back down next to him.

"No, it wouldn't. It would make me think you're avoiding your problems by having sex." He strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers. "You and I are going to talk."

And so, he started.

"I would hate to see you do something you regret because you think it'll make someone else happy. That'll just hurt you."

"But isn't it good to make others happy?"

"Not at your own expense. You need to remember that you are important above all else."

"I'm not as important as you think, Fakir." I try to keep my voice from cracking. I realize as soon as the words leave how mopey I sound. Fakir furrows his brows at me, sitting up and unbuttoning his shirt. I furrow my brows, a bit confused. "What are you doing?"

"You're being an idiot." He mutters, turning away from me as he pulls his shirt all the way off. "And I'm proving to you that you're an idiot." He stands up, slowly lighting one of the dim candles in his room. As he turns to face me, I recognize the long, pale scar that pulls across his chest. He kneels on the bed in front of me, his face turning a lighter shade of pink as I take in the three jagged scars across his torso.

"How is this proving I'm an idiot?" I hesitate, my hands tightly holding onto the blankets as I look from the scar to his face.

"I got this scar in your defense." Fakir moves a bit closer, taking my hand and placing it on the soft raised skin.

"What..? Why, how? Why did you do that? What happened?" Suddenly I feel guilt wash over me. What did I do to make him need to defend me?

"Your first year, you were an immediate target." He lays beside me, pulling his shirt back over his arms, though leaving it unbuttoned. "Someone in my sword fighting class said they were going to try and hurt you in indescribable ways. Even if I hated you back then, I couldn't just let that happen. I challenged him, and I won, at a minor cost."

My eyes fixate on his chest, and my hands gently wander over and against it. Tears pool in my eyes as I press my face into his chest. What did I really do to deserve someone like Fakir? He still wanted to help me even back when he thought I was an insufferable child.

"That's exactly how much you mean. That's how important you are." He strokes my hair, his hands brushing my hair. I gulp and nod my head.

"Why didn't you ever say anything about it?" I ask as I look back at him, suppressing hiccupping sobs. We lay back down next to one another.

"I didn't want to make you feel like you were indebted to me. Plus, I had an image I wanted to keep up. I had a girlfriend at the time, and she would have killed me if she found out I defended another girl." He smirks and stares back up at the ceiling. I snuggle against his warm skin, listening to his heart beat again. I chuckle, my heart pacing even faster as I think about fourteen year old Fakir with a girlfriend.

"Plus, in my opinion, you were definitely cuter than her back then." He laughs and wraps his arm under me, his hand against my shoulder just to keep me close. I feel myself becoming warmer by the second as he squeezes me tighter into his gentle arms, a smile pulling at his lips as he speaks about me. "Well, you still are cuter than her." My face flushes as I tiredly push my face into his chest.

"You really think so?" I shiver and my entire body feels aflame. He nods and I wiggle out from underneath the blankets. Fakir does the same, and I'm reintroduced to the soft fuzz of his happy trail making a thin pyramid to below his pants. I gulp and nuzzle my face into his neck, trying not to look down at the definition of his hips, that soft looking fuzz.

"Absolutely." His voice is confident, certain in his decision. My face flushes as I squeak into the softness of his chest.

"I don't understand what you see in me. I'm just like a duck," I joke, showing him my frail little body. Fakir shrugs and looks me over, his hand running over my side, feeling the little inches of my waist, hips, and ribs.

"I'm a sucker for red hair and blue eyes. Freckles too. Especially on a tiny girl like you. Not everyday you see something like that," He smiles. I smile back.

"Oh, so it's always physical to you now is it?"

"Of course not. You're sweet, and funny. Dull, but good hearted," He winks, kissing my cheek.

"Definitely not girlfriend material for you,"

"Perfect girlfriend material actually." I watch as his face burns like the candle in the room. Cheeks turning red in unison, I watch him backtrack. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it weird."

"No no, it wasn't weird…" I stare down at the blankets pooled at our feet for a second. "Would you ever actually want to date me?" Fakir burns up brightly, looking away from my face. He thinks on it for a few seconds, before slowly responding.

"I wouldn't object to it if it was offered." I manage to pull myself up towards his neck and wrap my arm underneath my chest, kissing his collar anxiously.

"So… You like me?" I clutch him tighter, my words feeling childish as they leave my lips. His lips press against my forehead again, warmth filling my stomach.

"More than like, but if you want to call it that, you can." I stay silent for a few moments, still just caressing his chest in the comfortable silence. It feels unreal what I'm hearing.

"Well, how do you feel about me?" I ask, wanting to know exactly how I make him feel. He thinks for a while, staring up at the ceiling. He shrugs and kisses me again.

"Warm. It's a lovely feeling. I think you described it as 'a warm feeling in my chest and between my legs', or something like that? So, I'm very hard for you, and you make my heart pound in my chest." he smirks, joking. "But it's a little more than that. You're a very wonderful person, and I appreciate your presence."

My heart throbs, but I pause for a moment, thinking about the other girls he's probably shown that to. I halt his buttoning, sitting back on top of him.

"What's it like being in love with someone?" I ask rather abruptly. With his shirt half open, his hair messy, and his eyes tired, he looks so absolutely kissable. So touchable. He smirks and sits up, placing me on his lap, now towering against me. He strokes my hair and quirks his eyebrow.

"It's pleasant. Nothing I can ever really describe, if I'm honest."

"Did you love your girlfriends?"

"Mm, most of them. But they always had something," He thinks about it for a second, before speaking again. "Something slightly off. I've crushed on a girl for years, and no one has ever been just like her," He looks out the window, staring out at the weaning twilight. I peer as well, staring at the brightening dark.

"Do you think she likes you back?"

"Why don't you ask her?" He gives a cheeky grin. I realize exactly what he means, causing me to burn up completely. He chuckles and holds both my hands, kissing them both softly.

"I think she's warming up to you,"

"I can tell, she's very hot right now." He lays back a bit, taking in all of me. I pull down on the hem of my dress, nervously fidgeting as I lay back against his legs. I groan nervously, just resting against him. His gentle hand holds onto my own, softly lifting them up a bit. My head peers up, noticing him just staring at the soft pink mounds on my chest from under my dress. I sit up again, listening to him begin to apologize. Though I don't speak, the heat becomes too much as I pull my entire nightgown off, leaving me in just a pair of silky panties on top of his hips. His face lights up rather immediately. His hands run over my bare hips and waist, making me shiver.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" He asks, one of his hands resting on my back as he gently kisses the space between my breasts. I nod to him positively, letting him continue. "You promise you're not doing this just for my benefit?" I nod my head again. I watch his hungry lips wrap around one of my small, pink nipples, his free hand tenderly massaging the opposite one. I twitch under his fingers and let out a short breath, stroking his hair as he continues kissing and suckling. My thighs squeeze his hips as he gently bucks up against me. He slips his tongue against the sensitive and warm skin he has his lips wrapped around, teasing my nervous skin even more. His hands pinch against my nipple, and I whimper. Fakir perks his ears up, stopping for a moment. I listen as well. Theres a set of footsteps towards the door. In a rush of adrenaline, Fakir pulls blankets over us, hiding me as he turns his back away from the door. I'm face to face with his bare chest now.

There's a light knock on the door, though neither of us answer. I hear it creak open, and Rue's voice peeks out, asking Fakir to keep it down. He agrees, apologizing, and as he's speaking, I start kissing his chest lightly. He shivers and I kiss again. My hand raises up his shirt, kissing his scars with gentle intent. As soon as the door closes, I hear a very small moan escape his lips. He pulls up the blankets and raises an eyebrow at me.

"Now, what are you doing down there?" He tilts my head up as I kiss again, staring up to see him shiver. I smile more at him, that handsome and frustrated face, watching him have to bite his lower lip to not moan again.

"Just kissing your chest. Is that a problem?" I giggle, feeling him pull me back up into his arms.

"Not particularly, though I would prefer to see your face when you kiss me." He tilts my head up and smiles, kissing my lips just as hungrily he did with my breast. His hands keep pressed against my back, making me smile into his kiss. The sweet smile shared in that kiss makes me pull away, giggling a bit. The mood was no longer sexual, but I'm okay with just the romantic playfulness sparking between us.

"You're dorky," I poke his nose, sticking my tongue out at him.

"Look who's talking," He squeezes my cheek in his palm. This beating in my chest feels so natural, so gleeful. Raw and jovial in our mutual quietness. Is this what people say a spark is?

"Well, at least I'm known for my dorkiness. You're known for your cool, broodingness." I respond, sure in my answer. Fakir smirks and sits up a bit, laying me on my side.

"I guess you're right in that aspect," He strokes my bare waist, grabbing hold of my nightgown and handing it to me. "But you should be glad I'm more comfortable around you."

My cheek flush red as I pull the dress back on. He truly is breaking down walls now with me. He's getting more and more comfortable with me, and I feel at least a tad bit accomplished. Fakir finishes buttoning up his shirt and returns to cuddling me tightly into the warmth of his chest.

"So, onto a serious topic." Fakir starts stroking my hair, his words much softer and his tone is cold all over again. "Why did you start hanging out with Antoinette?" His words unintentionally slip venomous fangs into my neck, sucking all that confidence out of me. I gulp and nuzzle into his shirt, unsure where to start. I can tell Fakir everything about her and how she's been treating me. I can let him know every little lie that she spread, every little thing she said about him. I can let it all out right now. My mouth impulsively opens, and I start talking.

"She's blackmailing me, I think."

"You think?" Fakir raises an eyebrow, letting me keep my face in his chest. I nod.

"If I don't do everything she asks, she's going to tell everyone we've been sleeping together, even though she knows we haven't." Fakir and I are silent for a few moments, though just through his fingertips I can feel his anger rumbling.

"Why didn't you ever tell anyone?" He whispers into my hair, and I shrug, trying to not look at him.

"I was scared-I am scared. She scares me," I whimper fearfully into him. My arms shake a bit as I keep holding onto him. I gulp again, continuing.

"She said that I belong to her, at least until she thinks I've paid my debt. It was after I got Wayland expelled, and that I owed her for it."

Fakir is silent again, but his heart is pounding. He's furious and I can feel that ferocity boiling against me as he brews on what I've said. His hands clutch me tighter into him. I don't wiggle away, just holding onto his large, tight bear hug.

"You're no longer indebted to her, got it?" He mutters into me. I look up and cock my head.

"What..?"

"You aren't in her debt anymore. I'll talk to her when spring break is over." He's aggressive, not angry, but authoritarian. I pull myself out from his grasp, shaking my head. I didn't want her to know I told him, and if he confronts her then something bad is definitely going to happen to both of us.

"Please don't, it's all okay, Fakir." I hold my hands up in defense. Fakir narrows his eyes, furrowing his brows and now glaring me down.

"This isn't okay. You're getting hurt because someone is deciding to take advantage of you," He sits up, still glaring at me. I shake my head and turn away from him, not wanting to look at him as I continue on.

"I'll be okay, Fakir." I mutter, staring at the dark door.

"No you won't be. It's not about you anymore. If she's doing this to you, what will prevent her from doing this to someone else?" He quiets down a tad, starting to rebraid my hair. I keep quiet, knowing I don't really have a defense. Hot rays flood upwards from my toes as I feel him finish braiding, spooning me. His knee presses between my legs, spreading them a slight bit. I wrap his arms over my ribs, pulling his body completely against mine. The comfort is warming, but I still can't speak. Fakir and I just lay together as the daylight weans up more from the windows. I've spent all night in his room, just talking to him. My heart pounds as I turn to face him, watching him grin very softly at me, his anger having dissipated. I can see the soft dawn glow give him a nearly angelic glow. Oranges and reds outlining him perfectly, creating a halo over his entire body.

"You look like an angel right now," I muse, turning over fully and cupping his cheeks in my tiny hands. He chuckles as he takes hold of both my hands, softly squeezing them as he lowers them to be against our chests.

"You are an angel." He whispers softly, giving me soft Eskimo kisses as my heart melts in my chest. As the dawn continues peeking through, I just stare over his mature features in the glorious light. His soft smile lines, the dark strands of hair that loosely fall over his face, the soft tan of his skin. He really has become a very handsome man. I want to say it, to tell him I love him. But maybe it's too soon? What if I say it and he wants me to disappear? It's been so long since I've ever said it to someone or had it said to me. He smiles a bit more before sitting up and heading for the bathroom.

"If you want to keep laying down, you can. I just need to shower a bit." He starts off towards his own bathroom, and I nod, continuing to lay down and watch the dawn produce those beautiful rays that glow and shimmer in through the thin window panes. I curl Fakir's pillow into my chest, letting me still cuddle something. The sound of rushing water mutes the thoughts in my mind, acting as white noise as I keep watching the sky turn that lovely blue it likes to stay. I think about slipping into the bathroom to catch just a little peek, though that fills my mind with thoughts I can't even begin to comprehend. What if I'm bad at sex since I'm a virgin? What if I didn't make him cum? What if he didn't want to wear a condom and he came inside of me? The pillow is great for groaning my frustrations into, I learn. Still, I try to imagine it. Maybe he would be gentle with me, hold my hands and tell me what to do. Thinking back on it, I remember how big he felt through his pants as he grinded against me. The sheer feeling of it through his pants as he had pressed against me, was enough to intimidate me into submission.

I sit up and yawn, trying not to think about sex as I throw off the blankets and stand, stretching my limbs and popping all my joints. I watch the smoky steam pool on the ceiling from the bathroom, making soft warm clouds in the black sky of Fakir's room. It's beautiful. It's something I wish can last forever.


	12. Chapter 12

Two weeks had gone by in a flash at that point. Fakir and I spent most of the time in each other's company, enjoying the late night discussions. His lips against mine as night weaned into day and the soft cracking voices we kept for each other's ears only. The end of spring break was upon us. I linger closer against the walls of the ballet room, dancing through my routine once more, just to make sure I remembered it and had perfected it. Fakir watches from the sidelines just to make sure my form is correct and I don't hurt myself. Bandages wound around my ankles from missteps and minor injuries I caused myself. As I stand on my feet again, I reenter my reality and smile. Fakir smiles back, extending his hand to lead me back into the house, though I pull him towards the weaning daylight outside.

"I want to go stargazing in those woods." I firmly declare, pulling him into the bright green plains. Fakir hesitates though as I pull his eyes towards the sky, I watch it light up. "It'd be nice, just the two of us, watching the night sky pass by us. Don't you think?"

He shrugs, pulling his fingers through into the empty divots between my fingers. "Could be." He pulls back the long strands of dark hair, adjusting his ponytail with his free hand. "You're not scared of bears, are you?"

"I'm not scared of anything!" I grunt.

"You're scared of butterflies."

"Am not!"

"Right, it's moths you're scared of." He leads us both back inside for supper. I groan and roll my eyes, butting my head lightly into his side and loudly moaning at him. Fakir huffs a loud sigh and pulls me off of him as he ascends the stairs to our bedrooms, ordering me to stay down. I listen, a bit begrudgingly as I kick my legs back and forth against the couch. Mytho steps out from the kitchen, holding a glass filled halfway up with wine, though on his breath there's the thick aroma of previous drinks. He doesn't seem belligerent or angry, instead more merry and jovial.

"Ducky! I'm so glad you're here! I wanted to talk to you for a moment," He sidles beside me, setting his glass down on the small side table beside us, his arm pleasantly wrapping over my shoulder. It feels warm and parental as it usually does, and I cuddle into him comfortably.

"Oh! Yeah, what's going on Mytho?" I grin up at him as he cuddles me closer, kissing the top of my head.

"So, you and Fakir are getting closer now. Spending long nights together, not hating each other, the works." He starts stroking my hair affectionately, and I watch as Rue enters as well. She doesn't seem to have been drinking as much as Mytho, though she seems just as jovial. "When are you going to say it to him?"

I quirk my eyebrow, a tad puzzled. "Say what?"

"That you love him, darling!" Rue says brightly as Mytho takes a long sip of the strong smelling wine. My face burns brighter than a torch as I throw my hands up, shaking my head furiously.

"Oh God, I don't think I could ever do that! That's way too far, I mean we've only been together for these couple weeks."

"So you admit you've been together?" Mytho perks up, squeezing my shoulder as Rue smiles even wider.

"We've been hanging out! I misspoke! We aren't dating or anything yet!" I try restlessly to defend myself, though I can see they're set in the assumption. I whimper to myself awkwardly as they begin drunkenly chanting over our presumed relationship, nervously hiding my face in the crook of Mytho's arm. I hear the sound of footsteps down the stairs and bolt upright. "I'll talk to you guys later, I'm going for a late night picnic!"

Rue takes another sip of wine and calls out after me something about using protection. I can't really bother myself to understand, lest I become red in the face. Fakir takes the last step down the stairs with the large duvet covers of both our beds in one arm, and two dark pillows in the other. I beam up at him, taking one of the large blankets over my shoulder, covering my entire body. Fakir rolls his eyes as we make our way out into the open space. The cool and enchanting breeze of the springtide night whisps through our hair as we walk together in silence, enjoying the sky as it turns from a pale blue into the light pinks and oranges, painting plump and fluffy clouds those candyfloss shades of pink and purple. We wiggle through the countless evergreens and spruces until we find the perfect little opening beneath the trees. Fakir lays out both duvets, one atop the other, and the pillows in between. I sit down and snuggle into our makeshift bed, staring up at the glittering stars that are just starting to peek out from beneath the blue. He lays himself down next to me, above the comfortable and warm covers, arms crossed under his dark locks.

I curl a bit closer to him, wrapping my arm underneath his own, staring up as the sky continues the metamorphosize into its new dark tinted palette. Fakir doesn't seem to mind, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. The stars continue to twinkle and dance, dazzling us both under their reign of glistening comfort.

"You know," I nervously swallow, recalling a fuzzy memory. "When I was really little, my mom took me out to see the stars once. It was amazing back then. We were out in the field, I remember her saying to me, 'Aniela, you see how all those stars? Some of them have names, like you and me.'" I pause for a moment thinking it over, my brows furrowing. "I wonder what she meant by that. Maybe she was just spewing facts like she usually did." I feel Fakir pull me a bit closer into his arms.

"You said it again." Fakir strokes my hair. "Was that your mother's nickname for you? Aniela?" I feel my face turn pale as I realize what I've said.

"Well, no. Not exactly." I try and avoid it, pointing to one of the stars. "L-look! That's Leonis, part of the Leo constellation," I smile, hoping to distract him. He doesn't take the bait.

"Why did she call you that then?" He's more stern and firm now, his fingers climbing through my hair. He's not going to pull it, is he?

"That was just what my mom called me."

"Why would she call you that then?"

"It's my name, okay?" I blurt, leaving us both in the echoing silence of the night. My heart is pounding and my entire body is now dripping with sweat underneath the heat of the blanket and my shame. We both just lay together, not looking at one another for a second, not speaking, watching the stars pass above our heads. It feels like hours before I finally speak up again. "I'm still just Ahiru, you know?"

"That's not your real name." Fakir doesn't look at me as he speaks. I throw my blankets off, sitting upright and glaring down at him.

"Just because it's not the name I was born with doesn't change the fact I'm still Ahiru. That's been my name for the past fourteen years, so I'm Ahiru now."

"I'm still going to call you Ahiru. That's not the problem. Why did your name change when you were that young?"

"It was something that had to do with ducks when I was a kid." Half the truth, half me wanting to drop the subject. My name shouldn't be that important. "I just want to be Ahiru now. That's the end of it."

"You always get so defensive." He groans, sitting up and towering above me. "You say that I put up walls, but you're no better. You've been hiding more than I have, and for what?" I lurch back an inch, watching him get in my face. "What do you have to be scared of anymore?"

For once, I don't really have an answer; I don't know what I have to be scared of anymore. There's the obvious, like Wayland and Victor. But what else could there really be? Getting close to people? Being loved? What was it that truly petrified me? Why was this little, insignificant piece of information so harrowing for me to tell anyone? I feel bile starting to rumble in my stomach, though I know nothing will come up. I hadn't eaten enough to supply me with vomit. Instead, fear pools into my lungs as I drown in the intense anxiety I have. The answer sputters out, hesitant and shaky.

"I… I don't know." I sit on the blanket again, realizing I had been halfway off of it. Fakir softens again, pulling me close into his grasp. We're quiet once again, watching the crescent moon start her path over the little patch of sky we can see. Glinting and glowing above her kingdom of shimmering stars.

The cool spring breeze turns cold, and I pull the large duvet over both of us, cuddling up closely. I will admit, the air between us is a fair bit awkward, though it is comforting there with him. Fakir strokes my hair free of my braid once again, letting all my hair loose. I let loose a long and rather loud sigh.

"I'm sorry I get like this."

"It's no trouble. I just want you to be honest in this relationship." My heart pounds as the words leave his lips and my cheeks flush, not that either of us could see it in the dead of night.

"Relationship?" My hands reach up to his shirt, as my face buries into the pillow below me.

"Well, if you want it to be, then I would prefer we call it by that. Unless you were hoping to just keep everything casual." Fakir shrugs his shoulders. I quickly object and squeeze into him tighter.

"No no! I definitely want to, I'm just worried about… You know, if anyone were to find out." My hands fumble with his shirt even more, my heart beating so hard that I know he can feel it against him. He strokes my hair even more, shrugging.

"We can cross that bridge when we get to it, don't you think?" Fakir seems so lackadaisical about it, and while it should be comforting, it only causes more anxiety to start boiling further into my skin. But I leave it, only nodding. I need to silence that anxiety for now. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it, right?

Fakir places his hand behind my head, resting me entirely on my back, facing him as he smiles from above me. The cold air starts to nip at my bare arms and I shiver, yearning for the warmth I felt mere moments ago. Fakir takes a moment, before laying entirely on top of me and bringing the duvet with him. His hands reach under my skirt, feeling the soft skin of his fingers as they rub against me. I shiver again, this time because of the warmth now rising between my thighs as I feel my underwear being slipped down. Fakir looks at me, asking if I'm okay, and I agree. I'm more than okay at this moment. He begins kissing me, his fingers already deep inside as his thumb teases my clit, making me insatiably tingly. His tongue flickers inside my mouth as I try and keep time with it.

Fakir pulls away from our kiss, climbing below the covers to where I can't see him. Though I feel him from underneath working his tongue like he had done before. Gently and with rhythm that makes my knees quake with exhilaration. I rock my hips back and forth against his rhythm, quaking as he keeps going. I lean my hips into it a little more, feeling him lean in more as well. His hands are firmly planted on my hips as he pulls away. Instead pulling out his cock and leaning above me. In the moonlight his flushed cheeks look far more intense.

"Would you object to going any further?" Fakir pants, one hand stroking the full length of his pulsing cock against me as the other while the other is wrapped under my neck. My face brightens, cheeks red as a tomato as I shrug.

"Go right ahead," The words seem so natural as they spill from my lips. I prepare myself for the pain of it, for the uncomfortable snap of my hymen. Though it goes in smoothly, pleasantly even. The pressure as he's all the way inside of me feels wonderful even as Fakir smiles down at me, my gaping mouth indicating to him how good it feels.

That's when he starts moving his hips, and I can't help but whimper into his shoulder. Pulling back and forth inside, it feels even more euphoric than I could have imagined. It doesn't hurt, and it doesn't feel wrong or bad. Fakir continues to pump his hips back and forth, listening to both of our breathy moans into each other's shoulders. His free hand now latched to my hip again, grinding me very lightly against him. Watching him get more and more into it only leads to me doing the same. We lay beneath the stars for minutes, still grinding and pumping against one another, listening to the muffled moans of each other. Finally I watch Fakir pull up, passionately kissing me, both his arms curled beneath my head as he pulls out, something hot spurting onto my stomach. I don't particularly mind however, as the kiss becomes more breathy and affectionate.

I get a small glance of Fakir as I pull away, combing my fingers through his hair as he collapses on top of me, sandwiching us both together under the blankets, the stars, and the rather gross sticky puddle Fakir made. But it still feels nice just to be here with him. I stare up at the stars, a new memory made and cherished dearly.

As he finally pulls back, cleaning up the spillage with one of the ends of the duvets, I ask. "So, that's sex?"

Fakir quirks an eyebrow, nodding very slowly. "Yeah, were you expecting something else?" He kisses my cheek affectionately as I shake my head.

"Yes. Well, no. Mm, not really? I expected it to hurt more, I guess." I shrug, avoiding the cold, wet parts of the blanket as I curl underneath them again.

"Sex isn't supposed to hurt. But I am glad it was pleasurable for both of us." Fakir wraps his arms over me, pulling me into his orbit of comfort.

"What was your first time like?" I blurt out, not even really registering in my mind what I said fully. Fakir doesn't seem phased at the question, however.

"Eh, it was boring. I was eighteen and my girlfriend at the time just wanted to do it. So we did. Condom on and everything. It was fine, just very boring, neither of us really enjoyed it." He nuzzles me into the crook of his neck, pulling his clothes back on. I follow his lead and snicker.

"So what you're saying is, it's better with me."

"Of course it's better with you. It's with you," He smiles, rewrapping me in his arms as my clothes are suitably on. As my face starts to glow, I turn my attention towards the cloud dusted sky. No longer do stars speckle the expansive atmosphere of the sky, instead only minor freckles of stars peeked through the darkening clouds. I huff a bit at the treason of the clouds, internally cursing them.

Though my curse only backfires, as rain droplets begin slowly starting to drip into our makeshift bed. Then more droplets, and more, until we finally realized we have to leave. Practically pouring rain, we dash into a thicker set of the woods to keep ourselves dry. Fakir managed to save one blanket, but the other was completely soaked. Neither of the pillows survived their watery demise, but neither of us seem to care as we rest against a tree. We drip with rain and sweat and our clothes cling to us so tightly it feels like circulation may be lost. I clutch the dripping pillows under my arms as Fakir holds onto the blankets, laughing jovially. I join in. What an awful time for rain, what a terrible place to be. But what a lovely person to be with. The rumble of thunder beckons us back to the house, lest we get caught in a thunderstorm in the middle of a forest.

As we make our final sprint towards the house, doing our absolute best to keep everything as dry as possible, I can see Mytho and Rue laughing and smiling at us through the window. Making it to the backdoor, both of us are greeted by the warm air inside, and the helpful arms of Mytho and Rue yearnus into comfortable towels. So fluffy and warm, I realize. They must have been prepping them close to the fireplace in the living room.

Drying off my hair and the rest of my shivering body is a bit of a challenge, though I can hear Mytho's urgent request for us to take a hot shower or a bath. That should just about do the trick for both of us, as we make our way up towards our rooms, converging into mine, since my bathtub was the bigger of the two rooms. Fakir starts disrobing and I do the same, staring at the long scar down his chest. My eye is still drawn to it, still feeling guilty for causing it. As soon as we're both naked and the water is steaming, I slip in. My skin feels like it's melting off a layer of ice, burning me intensely, though it's almost soothing in its heat. I beckon Fakir in as well, watching him slip beneath the sudsy water, going through the same emotions I did as the water scorches his skin, only to practically vacuum him into its grasp. I smile as I sink just far enough below the waterline to where you could just see above my nose. He reaches out from the side of the pristine white tub, starting to lather himself in soap.

"You're probably dirty still. You might need to clean up as well." He hands over the small bottle of iridescent pink liquid, and I reach up from below the suds, grasping onto it.

"What if I want to stay dirty?" I tease, moving the bottle from one hand to the other, sliding it in my fingers ever so smoothly. Fakir rolls his eyes, stretching out his legs as he becomes more comfortable.

"Then I'll have to clean you, if you decide to still be a petulant child."

The color in my cheeks finally rises a shade of pink that transcends color, as I Fakir begins laughing. I quickly begin lathering myself in soap from head to toe, washing myself as quickly as possible. As soon as I feel sufficiently clean, I hop out of the bath and wrap myself tightly in a towel. Within a few minutes of drying off, I hear Fakir pull the bath plug and the water begin to drain. I pull on a long and conservative nightgown, hiding the thin frame I have from him. Though, at this point, he's seen me completely nude, so it shouldn't matter, should it?

"You're adorable when you're nervous," Fakir's wet hands hold onto my hips from behind, catching me off guard. I turn my head to face him and notice that he's smiling, a bright and vibrant smile that I remember so clearly. I stand on my toes, starting to lean up towards him for a kiss. And as our lips meet, I feel his wet hands run through my silky hair, pulling through it easily as he lifts me up, pulling away from our kiss to place me down on the bed. As he sets me down fully, I watch him pull a towel over his hips, heading back into the bathroom. I lay flat on the bed, unsure what he's going to do. Are we going to make love again? Maybe he needs condoms. Maybe there's something he left in the bathroom that he needs for sex.

Anxiety continues to brew in my brain until I see him standing over me with a hairbrush, beckoning me to sit up so he can brush whatever kinks are left in my hair. Such a rational thinker I am. His hands are smooth, gentle, and rhythmic as they pull the brush through the knots of hair, gently dealing with each wavvy fastening they encounter. Fakir lifts the brush as soon as he's made my hair satisfactorily silky, kissing the top of my head.

"There, now you should be good to sleep in it. I'll be back in a minute." Fakir begins trotting towards his bedroom, a towel wrapped tightly over his hips. I smile, running my fingers through my newly untangled hair, breezing through the soft strands as Fakir re-enters with the bottom half of his pajamas on. My attention is once again turned to that lengthy scar, and I watch my hands reach out to touch it, brushing along the discoloration. Fakir takes my hands and pulls them up to his lips instead, kissing my knuckles. I cock my head as he takes his own hand, placing it on my shoulder and sitting beside me on the bed. He runs his fingers up and down my back.

As we fall back into the comfortable arms of my bed together, the wood of the floor creaking beneath us, I have a thought. One that clings to the forefront of my mind, attached there with glue and honey. I try to keep it glued there, not saying anything about it. But it slips, and I ask.

"So, we're… Dating now, right?" Fakir stares at me for a long moment.

"Yeah? I mean, that's what I thought I said." My hand finds its way into his, cuddling closer into him as my sweaty palms press into his dry hands.

"Does that mean that you're my boyfriend?"

"I would assume so. That makes you my girlfriend as well."

My heart pounds harder in my chest with every syllable he utters. I'm someone's girlfriend, now. There's a strange euphoria in that knowledge, and an even stranger euphoria knowing that it's Fakir of all people. I curl up into him, nuzzling my face into his chest as my cheeks burn up in a futile attempt to hide my newly found flusteredness. Fakir strokes my hair, with his free hand running over the curve from my ribs to my waist.

It's silent once again. The moon is still out, I notice, as my eyes are drawn outside once again. Most of the clouds had already rolled past, though there was still rain dripping down the window, and there were sufficient amounts still pouring from the sky to constitute a storm, practically.

"Don't take our relationship as me going easy on you." Fakir finally shifted me back to stare up at him. "I expect you to perform just as well as if I was just your teacher."

"I wasn't planning on slacking off, sir," I mock, starting to braid my hair up. Fakir halts one of my hands though.

"Keep it down. It looks better down."

"You think? I always hated it when it was long and easy to tangle like this." I wrap my arms over his shoulders and snuggle closer to his face, planting a small kiss on his lips. Fakir pulls me back for another, much longer kiss and a shiver runs up my spine. My lips pull back as I smile next to him, standing up just to blow out my candle. The pattering of rain against my window, the cracking of distant thunder braying, and the twinkling stars providing us with the little light we do lead to a perfect bubble of night.

"I love you," I finally confess to him, the words foreign to my tongue. It's strange saying it to him and not the motionless lump of my pillow that's forced to take my affection. Fakir smiles widely, planting a small kiss on the top of my head.

"I love you too."


	13. Chapter 13

I hadn't been told someone loved me in six years. Until now, it had always been something I wanted, but curled into his arms I realize how much I truly craved it. My body begins quaking and tears pour down my face, his words repeating so genuinely in my mind. I missed those words so much, and they came from Fakir of all people.

"Everything will be okay," Fakir murmurs as he holds me in the warmth below the blankets, hushing me and stroking my hair. I clutch onto him tighter, telling him I love him over and over again as the words practically jumble until they're a habit to say. My eyes sewn shut as blue tears stream down my cheeks, unable to really process anything I see. I keep crying and hiccuping out the same three words over and over again

I don't remember falling asleep, although I wake up in Fakir's arms as daylight peers in through the windows. The rays that shine past onto Fakir make him seem like a god, caught in daylights glowing resonation. I begin stroking his cheek with the back of my hand, just staring at all the handsome features and definitions of his face. The olive skin, small freckles dotted over parts of his forehead and cheeks. I don't know how I hadn't noticed those in the time we spent together. They make him feel that much more human in these intimate moments. I close my eyes, pressing our foreheads together as I say those three words once more. This time, Fakir responds.

"I love you too, you dolt," He groans, kissing me softly. I pull away, watching him stretch and moan loudly as the sounds of his joints popping. A strange tingle runs up my spine as he pulls the blankets from off his legs, and I see a familiar outline through his trousers. My eyes are quickly averted as he stands up, his fit body now the source of my eye's sweet tooth.

My stomach rumbles, realizing the mistake of not eating dinner last night and the cramps associated with it. Fakir rolls his eyes as I groan with dissatisfaction at my whining body. I throw myself out of bed, watching him tuck the boner into his waistband, hiding it at least a little better. I giggle and pull open my door, starting down towards the kitchen, half racing him there, half watching him chase after me as he puts his hair up into his loose ponytail. It's cute watching him try and act tough after seeing him so vulnerable for so long.

Food is already set at the table, while Rue and Mytho are halfway done with the eggs and sausage placed out. Before I am fully seated, the food is crammed into my mouth and halfway done. I eat everything in front of me as though I'd never eaten before, wishing I had eaten more last night. No one is really surprised with me at this point as my plate is spotless within minutes of me entering the room. I thank both Mytho and Rue as I stand up to put my plate in the sink. Peering out one of the many windows, I notice how wet everything is as clouds still hang overhead. I've never particularly minded the rain, it's a comforting force, and always brought forth flowers and beautiful shrubs. The kitchen door swings open and I feel a warm pair of arms wrap around me, softly kissing the back of my head.

"You look cute when you wash up." Fakir says as our hips sway in tandem. I smile, as his head perches on my shoulder, hands on my waist as his lips brush against the exposed skin.

"You prefer a stay-at-home kinda girl?" I finish drying off my utensils with a dishrag as Fakir kisses my shoulder.

"I prefer someone to do what they love, but it is nice watching a lady wash up." Fakir takes place in front of the sink. "Mind if I help you?"

I nod, starting to clean all of the rest of dishes. I had always abhorred home chores when I was younger. But with him, I don't particularly mind. It feels reciprocal, pleasant, even natural in this state of mind. My hands dry off every small dish he hands me. Something about the kindness of these short moments makes my heart flutter. The door opens again with Rue holding onto a small letter, addressed to Fakir. He smiles and nods, taking it as he walks out with her. I finish drying off the remaining wet dishes from the small rack by the sink. As I trot towards the door, I notice Fakir's frantic voice on the other side. Lurching away from the door instinctively, I watch him slam it open.

"We have to leave now. I just received word from the Academy that I'm requested back immediately." He grunts, urging me back up to my room. "You need to pack right now." He starts forcing me up the stairs, and I hesitate to really push back. I change into a summer dress so as not to be in my pajamas all day. Beginning to reassemble my clothes and other trinkets into my bag, I feel flustered and concerned, peeking my head out from my door.

"Why do I have to come with you? If it's just an urgent message for you, then I can still-"

"Don't fucking argue with me right now, get everything packed now." He barks, fists clenched as he continues to pace. He already has his bag set by his door, and I slip back into my room, finishing my packing. He seems so tense now, something must really be wrong. As soon as I'm well packed and out of my room, I feel the drag of Fakir's hand on my wrist. "I didn't mean to yell, but it's urgent that we both be there immediately."

I simply nod my head as we make our way out to a carriage that's already stationed out at the front of the yard. I give both Mytho and Rue a hug and kiss goodbye

"Please promise me you'll stay safe," Rue strokes my hair, squeezing me a bit tighter in her hug. I nod my head, and she turns to face Fakir. "And if she can't stay safe, I expect you to protect her at all costs."

Fakir groans, pulling away from Mytho's hug. "I promise nothing will happen to her." Mytho pats both of us on the back, sending us off with teary eyes and a wide smile.

"Both of you just please stay safe."

"I promise I'll keep her safe. No matter what," Fakir smiles at the willowy man before him. They embrace once more, and I do the same with my raven counterpart, holding her closely.

We climb into the carriage, our bags coming in shortly afterwards as we sit on opposite ends from each other. As the door closes and the horse jolts forward, we start off on our journey back.

There's a foreboding silence between Fakir and I. I feel as though I've done something to cause this situation. Staring out the window, I watch the large manor slowly creep out of view, and the thickening greenery of the forest consume the remainder of my vision. It's beautiful out here, but I feel so uneasy even now. I'm left in the dark and I'm scared to ask. Looking over, I notice Fakir staring out the window as well. I wonder what he's thinking. I keep quiet, just listening to the gravel road crunch beneath the wheels and hooves of the carriage. My hand reaches out of the window, feeling the crisp air of the forest. I look over to Fakir, wordlessly asking what's wrong. He perks his head up and sighs, finally acquiescing to my request.

"It's something to do with Wayland. I wasn't given much information other than we are both involved. It's unsafe for him to be around you, but it's my job to follow her orders. I'm sorry." His green eyes are significantly more upset looking. What could they possibly be doing? Were they thinking of revoking his expulsion? I tremble at the thought of having to face him again, being near him at all makes me sick. Even hearing his name feels like a violation. Fakir's other hand cups my cheek, trying to calm me down.

"You won't let anything happen, right?" I murmur, nearly clawing my thigh with my free hand. Fakir kisses my forehead, nodding.

"He won't lay a finger on you if I can help it." There's a long silence between us as I realize that as soon as we enter back into that school, we will have to act how we used to. Distant, brusque, and disinterested in each other's company. The fear of saying anything out of line, anything that might draw suspicion towards us could easily get both of us expelled, or worse. I clutch onto his hand a bit tighter before he pulls me into a tight hug. Here, I'm safe, sitting on his lap, embracing him with every fiber of my person. Nothing can hurt me in this little pocket of time. I squeeze him once more before the carriage stops and sit back in my seat. We're already at the Academy? I peer out my window, staring at the cobblestone streets and well loved buildings in the town.

Fakir exits the carriage first, watching the near empty grounds of the Academy for anything out of the ordinary. As soon as he's finished scanning the grounds, he extends his hand to me. Taking it in my own, I step down from the carriage and stand in front of the looming aura of the Academy as it stares back at me. We both begin heading towards the Headmistresses office with haste.

"Do you think I'm going to be alone with him?"

"It's unlikely, but possible. I don't think the Headmistress is stupid enough to force you into a room with him after what you said, but I have no genuine idea." Fakir sounds hesitant, unsure if even he knows what he can get away with. I feel his hand pull back hard from mine, recoiling from my touch. I rescind as well, trying my hardest to seem disinterested in being near him. Looking through the windows of the school, I notice a familiar gaunt woman pacing back and forth in her office, her white hair in a thick and messy bun. The lines on her face from age and stress were able to be seen from quite a few meters away, and her suit seemed to tighten with each long breath she took. Her head turns out from inside the window to see us both, and I watch her excuse herself from people not visible in the room, starting towards us.

"She knows we're here at least," Fakir groans, starting to run a bit faster to meet up with her. I simply lag behind, staring at them as the two older people meet up, starting a conversation I can't hear. Looking back in the window, I see Wayland's face peering out of the window, a smug grin against his face as he notices me. My stomach drops and my heart seems to stop beating as I can see Antoinette inside as well, both of them snickering as Headmistress Samiel's voice breaks the air.

"Mister Andor, I'm so glad you made it." Her bony fingers wrap over Fakir's shoulder, straining her golden eyes to look at me. "Miss Arima too. We have some unpleasant revelations involving Mister Kellenburg's expulsion." Samiel gulped, ushering us both inside. Fakir nods his head, following after her. The worry in his voice echoes louder than his tone.

"What kind of revelations?" Fakir opens the door leading to the long straight corridor. I feel my stomach begin to ache as Samiel turns to look at me for a brief moment, only to turn back to Fakir and continue.

"Well, his sister has been implying that it may have been consensual, or their relationship had been consensual previously." Samiel is cold now and I watch Fakir physically shiver at the sound of it, stopping in his tracks. Samiel continues. "Miss Kellenburg said she had seen them engaging in private meetings. Their father is here to help sort the matter out."

"They hadn't been seeing each other privately. I know that for certain." Fakir stands outside the door, his eyebrows pressed together and his teeth gritted tightly. Samiel turns to face him, taken aback by his response. She places a shaky hand on her hip.

"And how are you so sure of that, Mister Andor? Was Miss Arima seeing you instead?"

"With all due respect, she was in remedial lessons for afternoons. She had indicated on multiple occasions that Mister Wayland Kellenburg was causing her a great deal of distress. I don't think-"

"I wouldn't have ever been alone with someone as vile as him. With all due respect, Miss Headmistress," I finally speak up, my face white as a sheet, my fists balled up tightly. We stand in front of her office door as Samiel stares me down, her golden eyes narrow and practically seeping under my skin. I feel my blood begin boiling as she starts to turn the knob of her door.

"You say that now, but there's reasonable doubt behind your motives, Miss Arima. Your father has already been contacted to make an appearance." Her and Fakir disappear through her office door as I'm left in place, shaking in fear. Already I hear Fakir begin protesting her decision, as I'm rooted to the floor, fear gripping my stomach and thighs as I'm unable to budge an inch. He is going to be here, and I am going to die. Maybe not physically, but I am going to die as soon as his boots touch school grounds.

What have I done..? I feel like I've left my body, as though my soul isn't where it's supposed to be. I remember this feeling. I'm shutting down now as my limbs become heavy and weak and my mind runs empty. I slump down next to the door, numbness in my legs as I wait to be allowed in. The voices inside don't even seem real, just disembodied sounds and jumbled noises. I can feel my heartbeat in my fingers, it's consistent thrumming all that reminds me that I'm not dead quite yet. The vibration of Fakir's boots against the wooden floor startles me and I find myself on my feet again, finding my composure. He doesn't exit the door, but I can hear half of the conversation now.

"There's no way that what I saw was consensual touching… She was trying to physically wiggle from his grasp and ended up collapsing on the floor crying… Yes, I understand that might be the case, but that is no reason to assume-... Yes Headmistress… Mister Kellenburg was clearly out of line with that, you have to at least admit that… Mister Kellenburg, I understand you're angry, but there is..." The sheer frustration in his voice makes my stomach ache as I hear him step away from the door, only to become more ambient noise to the bleak situation. At least he's attempting to defend me. I begin pacing a bit, chewing my nails more. I had been so good those two weeks that my nails had thoroughly grown out. Now they were back down to the stubs as the skin on my fingers starts to peel. I want to bite, to chew, to do anything to distract myself.

I watch the door creak open as Wayland, Antoinette, and a large man exit. Their eyes latch onto me, burrowing deep into my psyche as they begin tearing through every little fibre of my person. There's a definitive venom in their stare as they walk out of the building. My skin is cold as Wayland blows a kiss at me, and I feel the sting of tears in my eyes as My stare can't be pulled away for whatever reason. I truly do feel violated in these few seconds of being near him. Headmistress Samiel calls my name and I rush into the office faster than I ever could before.

She sits at her large oak desk, lined with many files and trinkets, most of which I can't think to name. Her nameplate is front and center of the desk. Fakir stands guard at a window, staring at me like I'm just another student. She starts asking me about the event as soon as I'm sat in front of her, and I recount it. My memory is a fair bit hazy, since it was a good few months ago, but I know what I'm saying is true. Fakir doesn't butt in at all, just letting me speak. My hands tightly clutch the armrests on the chair, being interrogated by this woman.

"At no point did you two ever engage in consensual touching, correct?" She asks, jotting down the remainder of my testimony. I shake my head slowly.

"No ma'am."

"Have you ever engaged in consensual sexual touching with any student?" The question pierces through me, and I feel my heart sink. My voice is caught in my throat, and my mouth kept open. Fakir's hair stands upright on his arms, and I cock my head.

"Why does that matter?" I gulp, my hands clutching tighter

"Just answer the question, Miss Arima. It's pertinent to what's at hand." I take a large gulp of air, the lump lodged in my throat dislodging.

"N-no, I haven't ma'am," I hesitate, avoiding her eye contact. Samiel's voice gets harsher.

"Are you lying to me?"

"No ma'am."

I watch her hands scrawl something down before she perks up again. "Antoinette told me that you've been engaging in quite promiscuous behavior. Some of which may be more unsafe than other activities. You're telling me this isn't something that was going on?" My skin starts to crawl as even the notion I would sleep around was horrifying to me. I furiously shake my head, standing up from my chair.

"I would never dream of that!" My eyes start to well up as the betrayal starts to settle in. "Why the fuck would she ever say that?" Samiel ushers me back down.

"There's no need for that kind of language here, Miss Arima. I understand this might be stressful for you, but I have to make sure we cover every base." Her voice is clinical. I bite my tongue and sit in my chair once again. Fakir is staring back out the window, but I can tell just from his crossed arms and furrowed brows that he's equally as upset.

"I understand…" I whimper, my head turned towards the ground as I wipe away the pools of tears. She continues asking questions and I answer them slowly, methodically. Fakir just stands, watching something outside. His eyes are locked on something beyond my sight. I watch him finally perk up tapping the Headmistress's shoulder and whispering to her.

"Ah, I see." She stands up, heading towards the door. "Miss Arima, seeing as you're underage-and any further action will have to result in police interference-we have invited your father to speak on the matter as well." I sit frozen in my seat, knowing I have to face him in just a few moments. "Since he has just arrived, I will fetch him and speak to you both."

As the door clicks shut, I realize how empty I am now. My mind becomes a haze. It feels like I'm not even there, just a third party. My head feels empty and my skin cold. I can't even remember what I'm doing. I know I need to step back into my skin, but I can't. I can hear his voice, and I'm pulled even further out of my body, back into my mind so I can refuse to believe what's happening is real. I feel like I'm controlling a puppet as I watch my father sit next to me, his curly ginger hair and beard starting to whiten with his age, his burly body starting to crumble. But I can still feel the power he has, the overwhelming presence as his hand collapses atop mine. His voice echoes loudly throughout the room, but in all honesty I don't know what he's saying. I don't know what anyone is saying. I'm still gone.

An hour feels like it passes, and my father's hand is crushing mine. I remember that grasp, I was always meant to remember it. As I am excused from the room, he follows me. I'm still practically completely shut down, but I can hear his whispers directly into my ear.

"I didn't send you here to be a dirty whore. You think paying this tuition is fun? I brought you here so you wouldn't make me look like an absolute fucking buffoon like your mother did." I nod my head slowly as he speaks. His grip, now moved to my shoulder, feels like it's grinding my bones to dust. I want to cry, to call out and weep. But I know I can't. "If I have to come down here again because you're being a goddamned motherfucking prostitute, I will make absolutely certain that nobody will find you. Got it?" I nod again. His hand yanks my hair and I yelp in pain. He lets go, hugging me tightly, almost as if he's trying to cover up.

"Yes dad…" I finally gag out a response, my body is my own once again. He lets go, heading back towards the town.

"If I receive another letter that involves me coming to save you, then you know what will happen." I watch as he leaves, finally shifting back into my own body. I wobble a bit, trying not to fall to my knees in painstaking fear. Disassociation, that's what Fakir called it. It's something to do with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, he told me. Why can't I just feel normal for once? I stumble towards my dorm, watching Pique and Lilie walking together, making room for me in the hall. I smile at them, watching them awkwardly smile back. Lilie and Pique both have their lovely hair all the way down, probably having just gotten back from an overnight dorm sleepover. They did those when we were all younger as well.

"Hey guys," I murmur, trying to stand up normally.

"Ahiru, are you okay?" Pique asks, reaching her hand out to me, starting to hoist me up a bit more.

"Yeah, you look really sad," Lilie adds, both of them helping me stand a bit better.

"Oh, I'm okay. Just saw my dad after seven years, so that was weird," I try and laugh it off as they walk me to my room.

"We heard everything that Antoinette said about you. We know it's not true," Lilie blurts, opening up my door. I notice that someone has been laying out my birdseed as soon as I enter, my window ajar.

"Antoinette has been really trying to humiliate you since you've been gone." Pique sits me down on my bed, leaning against my windowsill with Lilie beside me. "Where have you been, anyway?"

I hesitate to respond, just catching my breath. "I was um… I was with Mytho and Rue. They invited me to stay in their cabin." My head pounds as my thoughts finally begin to rush back. Overloaded with the sense of dread and draining sense of having been friends with such a vengeful person. However, Pique and Lilie seem to light up at the mention.

"Seriously? That's amazing!" Lilie chimes, hugging me tightly like she used to. Their kind voices and cheerful presence makes me feel safe again. I feel like a person as they speak to me again. All my memories of being with them and actually enjoying myself, the genuine connections we share. I pull Lilie into a hug, listening to the gentle beating of her heart against my ear. It thuds against me as I hold onto her tightly, Pique joining in as well. This just feels right. The feeling of contentment is near overwhelming as they continue lathering me in their friendship. Pulling away from our platonic embrace, I see both of them were already crying.

"We missed you a lot, Duck. You became someone completely different and we worried." Pique wipes away tears from her pink face, speaking through hiccuped sobs. Lilie nods.

"It was so scary! We wondered if someone was blackmailing you or threatening to sell your family to pirates or something!" She adds, a bit flamboyantly. Pique softly patted her thigh, reminding her that the pirate thing was a joke, but Lilie continued to press on. "We just missed you a whole lot,"

We sit in my room as I explain the Antoinette situation, excluding the parts involving Fakir and I ending up alone together. They both seem equally upset about the events, but kind enough to stay by my side and still call me their friend. They stay in my room with me until the sun is completely set over the hilltops.

"You know where our rooms are, just knock and we'll be there for ya'," Pique smiles as Lilie drowsily sits under her arm, making their way to the door. I smile back and wave them off.

"I'll be fine, you goofballs. I'll talk to you two in the morning!" I chime equally as drowsy, standing up and stretching my legs. A small yawn manages to slip past my lips as soon as they make their way towards their dorms. I feel sufficiently full, having well enjoyed their company. It's painful watching them go after not talking to them for months.

I lean myself against the windowsill of my room, staring out into the vast, cold night. The back of my head still feels tense from earlier in the day, I realize as the cold air nips it. It feels so vulnerable to have it that long, now that I've had it yanked. My head doesn't ache as I gently stroke the small bundles of hair. Maybe I'm the problem… Maybe I need to change for anything to really happen anymore. Something is just wrong. I'm seventeen, goddamnit, people shouldn't be walking all over me like this anymore.

My hands shake a tad, sweat starting to drip down my palms. I rummage around my drawers for the scissors we occasionally used in class for projects, carefully peeling back the sheets of graded paper I had stuffed away in embarrassment. The hilt of the scissors graze my hand and I clutch them, curling my fingers through the holes. I tug them out and stare at the unused sharpened blades on either side. The glinting silvery shine of it makes the feeling of me running the dull edge against my hand and forearm feel nearly catastrophic, imagining the red pigments drifting down the edges in thin shimmering lines. '_Not here.'_ I tell myself, brooding over what I'm going to do with them. I stuff them underneath my nightgown and into the thick fabric of my undergarments.

The dormitory isn't quite dead, so as I slip through the halls, I watch the occasional pair of eyes settle on me, before the person attached to them begins giggling. The rising embarrassment makes me feel queasy, though I continue to smile at every passing person. In my mind, I know it's stupid to give these snickering bodies any semblance of kindness, but it's no use being equally as evil towards them, is it? I don't want to end up bitter and cold, angry at everyone who didn't understand me. It doesn't do any good to be upset at others when I didn't even have a chance to defend myself.

My hair stands on end as I reach the girls shower room. My trek past everyone has led to this one place, this place where I would change myself, practically shapeshifting into someone else. Opening the door, I notice the last few girls either just getting out of the shower or leaving the room. My face increases a shade as I look away, becoming as much of a wallflower as I can. The snickering and giggling continues however until I watch each girl leave.

"What a weirdo," I hear one of them mutter rather loudly. Maybe it was an accident, or a genuine means to shrink me down; either way, I feel like a complete weirdo anyway.

The shower room door shuts, and I wait a couple minutes, hoping no one else would be occupying this room alongside me. I wait a few more minutes and the door never opens once, so I release the breath I was holding in. My chest aches as I climb into one of the shower cubicles, still fully clothed. Sliding my fingers against the small tufts of my braid, I pull the scissors from their hiding place. My hands caress the dull sides against my hands. It feels so calming almost as I hear the creaking of the blades opening up. I turn on the shower water, feeling the cold spray against my face and body. It's shocking for the first few seconds, but the warm water quickly starts flowing. My dress becomes heavy and soaked as the water continues to drip down and the blades look almost like silvery streams. I clutch the hilt a bit tighter. Something about the squeeze of my grasp and the way they fall back together makes it so much more tantalizing.

I hold them up, watching them cut through the droplets, the shower starting to shrink around me as I come to terms with my decision more and more. It's only natural that I would do this. I've been pushed and pulled to this point that I might as well do this. Right here, and right now. The blades pulled underneath one of the first rungs of my hair, snipping it just above the rubber band. I hear the wet clump splat onto the floor. Looking down, I watch as the small red threads start escaping down the shower drain. The hair band remains untouched as my hair unfolds in the rushing shower water.

Another fistful of hair, snipped off. And another. And another. Until finally I feel the scissors whip against my shoulders. The short, wet clumps of hair struggle to all run down the drainage, clogging the flooring. I look over my shoulders and see the ends of my bright strawberry hair beside me. Finally, I turn off the running water and stand against the door of the cubicle, staring at the long strands of hair. The heavy weight on my back, now lies on the floor trying to escape from me. My head no longer feels tense as I stroke the back of my hair, feeling the places that had hurt.

My clothes practically drag on the floor as I step out and stand in front of one of the mirrors, where only the edges are frosted with steam. Staring at my reflection, it almost doesn't seem real. My hair is now just shoulder-length, after being so long down my back for so many years. I smile at myself, turning around to see the rather poor hack job. But I'm still finally relieved to see myself unhindered by the long twine interwoven into my skull. I take the scissors, evening out the sides and ends, trimming until it is perfect. And there I stand, as my red threads hang off the sink counter. It doesn't feel real, as I pick up a single strand, staring it over as it glimmers in the bathroom lights.

After cleaning up the remainder of my mess and wringing the water from my clothes, I make my way back into my silent dorm. Even wrapped in my blankets, I can't find the will to fall asleep. The knowledge I've reinvented myself in a matter of minutes weighs heavy on my mind, and a slew of new persona's reach into my mind. I can completely reinvent myself, can't I?

My fingers weave through the short strands of hair, playing with them so easily. It feels nice to be free. To be almost like a bird, in this sense; free of things holding me down and keeping me so rooted into my feet. Maybe dancing will be even easier now that I cut that pesky length off my back. I stand up from the coziness of my bed and begin practicing for my final. I have a week until it's due, and I'm not going to let anything get in the way of me passing. My feet are sore still, my blisters still barely starting to scab over, but I dance at least through the easy parts of my routine. My hair twirls over my face and I smile, happy with how much easier it is.

I stop to admire the sunrise from out of my window, leaning from my windowsill. I watch as Wayland prances through the academy gates with his sister, his smug face peering around the school grounds. Antoinette looks equally as smug, her nose upturned towards everyone and everything. I groan and close my window, starting to change now. I change into a black unitard and long translucent tutu, my short hair now grazing the very ends of my shoulders. I pull my fringe away from my face, moving it all to one side. Staring back at the sky, as it just starts to turn blue, I remind myself that today is about reinvention. Today is the start of something new, about me becoming something new. And I think that makes today a good enough day.


	14. Chapter 14

It's well past noon when someone finally decides to knock on my door. I perk up and creak open the door just a sliver, faced with the Headmistress staring me down in the peek of my doorway. Her dark purple blouse and thin black skirt make her ooze with authority that the grim reaper has.

"Miss Arima. It's a pleasure to see you awake before two o'clock." Her comment is rife with displeasure. Surely she wanted me to wake up as she got to the door, just to scold me. She extends a hand, opening the door further. Her face pops with shock as she notices all my long hair is naught, left behind only by the shoulder-length cut I gave myself. She doesn't say anything of it, instead urging me to follow her. I listen, still in my unitard and tutu from last night. Down the hallway and through the school halls, people continue to stare at me. Everyone keeps their tongues to themselves, but I watch the cogs in their minds whirring into overdrive. What was so confusing about me cutting my hair? Was it just how sudden it was to everyone else? I guess I am known for my long hair, and not that it's gone, people just didn't know how to react. Headmistress pulls me to her side and her hand creaks over my shoulder, extremely bird-like with her nails like talons and her hands dry and thin.

The door to her office is wide open, and I can see Antoinette sitting in one of the two chairs. I catch her glancing back at me, her face curling in surprise as well. Sitting in the free chair, I refuse to acknowledge her presence. Her hair is neat and straight today and her outfit feels much more formal than necessary. Her white blouse, blue pencil skirt, and black coat just aid in making her look like a twat. I sit down next to her, keeping my gaze out the window. Fakir isn't here and it's probably for the best, since I need to keep my head and thoughts straight. It would probably cause Antoinette to howl and play victim even more than I know she already will.

Samiel seats herself in her own chair, the loud metallic squeak of the legs against the ground grating against my ears. "So ladies, I assume both of you understand why you're in here." Antoinette perks up, her eyes ready to wetten and burst with tears at the drop of a pin. I nod my head.

"Yes ma'am," I acknowledge.

"Ma'am, if it's alright with you," Antoinette interjects, her voice a little quaky. "I want to say something to Ahiru," Samiel stares at her a moment, a long sigh leaving her lips before allowing it. Antoinette hiccups, and I watch her turn to me, faking that pretty smile I once thought was genuine. I'll be damned if she isn't a good actress. "I'm so sorry, Ducky. I didn't think it would have to come to this. I just wanted you to be safe."

The heat of anger boils even further in my stomach. I just stare back at Samiel as soon as she's done talking. She reluctantly stares back at Samiel, ready to start.

"Ahiru, I'll talk to you first. What about Antoinette's story do you find false?" Samiel points her pencil at me.

"What about it? Everything," My arms prickle with anger and betrayal. "I've never slept around, I've never been with her brother, I've never wanted to date anyone."

"Oh Ducky, there's no need to lie," Antoinette reaches out to rub my arm, and I swat it away.

"She told me that after her brother got expelled, I needed to make up for it because it was my fault. I got him expelled on accident, he touched me without permission!" Heat starts to boil in my stomach, tears begin to blur my vision. I grip onto my arms. "It makes me feel sick everytime I have to remember it, and I never asked for it. I never wanted it." My voice cracks and I finally muster the strength to wipe the tears from my eyes. My chest stings with exasperation. The exhaustion of having to relive those moments near him.

"And, in relation to the sexual interactions?" Samiel doesn't seem fazed by my tears, just asking more questions as the sound of her pencil scrawling becomes a hazardous pet peeve to me now.

"I've never slept with anyone. I've never even kissed anyone. I'm not interested in that." It feels hard to blatantly lie, but I try and put myself before spring break. It wasn't a lie back then.

"So you've never interacted sexually with a student or a teacher?" Samiel asks, curtly. I gulp.

"No, ma'am." Samiel turns to Antoinette, now starting to interrogate her. I tune it out though, there's nothing I want more than to tune it out and forget why I'm here. I hear mention of "protection," and "she's lying," but it's just noise to me now. Whatever she's saying is nothing but noise and drivel. I want to escape this nightmare.

"Ahiru? Do you remember this incident?" Samiel asks, and I freeze. What was she talking about? What incident could she possibly be referencing?

"What incident?" I nervously shift.

"You and Mister Andor 'sneaking away' from a secret room in the teachers hall in the middle of the night?" I feel my heart throb in my chest.

"Oh, that…" I try to come up with a lie, a good enough lie to convince her. "I have nightmares a lot. And I was telling Fakir about how bad they usually get. He let me stay in that room so in case they got really bad, he could help me."

"Why does Antoinette say she saw you and Mister Andor kissing in secret, then?"

"Because she's lying. That's why. Look, if you're accusing me of having a relationship with Fakir, then I'll just be expelled." I stand from my seat, starting towards the door. Samiel's bitter eyes sink daggers into my back as she demands me to sit back down.

"Miss Arima, there are no accusations here. I'm simply trying to get to the bottom of this putrid rumor and make sure I didn't falsely expel a student. Now if you would kindly stop acting like a petulant child, that would be appreciated." Her tone and authority drag me back into my seat, my feet suddenly anchors to my thoughts.

"Why are you asking me about things that have nothing to do with Wayland then?" Samiel seems a bit taken aback by my question. "You have witness testimony. Fakir was directly in front of me when it happened."

"I just want to make sure that Wayland didn't have any false sense of entitlement. If you were promiscuous, or in any other sexual relationships then it may have-"

"Even if I had sex with a million people, that doesn't give him the right to touch me when I dont want it!" I finally scream at the top of my lungs, anger having boiled well over what I should have let it. "It's my body! I didn't want to be touched, and he kept touching me! That's evidence enough that it wasn't okay." I stand up, leaving without another word. Tears are spilling down my face as I feel my chest practically convulsing with hiccuping sobs. Neither Samiel or Antoinette seem to make an effort to come after me and I hope they don't try to. I walk into town, past the thickening trees and into my open field.

With the kind embrace of the cool shade beneath a large oak, I cry loudly. Snot and tears dripping down my face as I let every bursting angry cell spill loose. I didn't deserve to be treated like a criminal when I was the survivor of that crime. I wail and whimper, and even as my feathered friends surround me and snuggle into me, I still feel pathetic and lonely.

The air is still warm, it's still positive and inviting but I feel uninvited. Having those accusations thrown at me just stung far more than any slap to the face ever could. I wipe my face as soon as salty tears stop dripping down my cheeks, taking large and long breaths. The spring air finally starts to feel nice as I calm myself down. It doesn't make everything okay, but that's okay for right now. Miss Canary perches herself on my finger and I lift her close to my face, snuggling her into my shoulder. 'I'm probably going to get kicked from the school.' I remind myself solemnly. I want to be a prima ballerina so badly, but am I willing to sacrifice my dignity for that? Am I willing to pretend that what Wayland did wasn't that bad for a chance to be a famous ballerina?

Before I can even answer myself, I watch the foliage and such start to rustle and part from the other end of the valley. Slinking back into my own section of trees, I watch cautiously. Victor and his comrade come through, and I sink further into my small neck of the woods, quietly trying to listen into their conversation. Their voices manage to slightly echo in the empty valley.

"The girls haven't made as much as they should have this time around. Something is going on in town." Victor's friend growls, sitting in the grass as he pulls out a long cigarette.

"It's just a dry season. Once the holiday is over, our girls will start rolling back in cash. Plus, I've heard my little duckling is finally back from wherever she ran off to," Victor responds, still as slimy as she remembered him being. "She's gonna make a pretty penny once she's broken in. Anty swears she's still a prude, but I think Way copping a feel may have loosened her up a little. Broken her spirits a bit," The two men chuckle and I feel my stomach sink as I start creeping away. I watch my feet as I avoid snapping any branches or tripping over anything, before starting to run back towards town. I didn't want to put up with this right now, I'm too mentally exhausted. I run faster and faster before I feel myself collide with something, tumbling to the ground hard. It's a few moments of groaning and rubbing my head and neck before peering up at the familiar dark hair and eyes.

"Fakir!" I whimper, embracing him tightly. All my tears have long since been dried and left, but I still hiccup sobs into his torso. He hesitates, softly stroking my hair as I'm snuggled into him.

"Is everything okay?" He peels me away for a second, just as baffled by my hair as everyone else. "What happened to your hair, Duckling?" His fingers climb up my back and through my hair, pulling through the wavy strands, just to confirm it was, in fact, that short. I shrug my shoulders, pulling it horizontally as if to reconfirm it to both of us.

"I did it. Do you like it?" I sniffle, still smiling weakly. He cups my cheek, smiling back and pulling me close.

"I do." Fakir stands me and himself up, putting his hand on the hilt of his sword which I just realized is on his hip. "But while I would enjoy being sentimental with you right now, there's other matters I have to tend to." He starts pacing back towards the valley.

"What do you mean?"

"I saw… something. I need to investigate." His tone is low and serious. I nod, not pushing much further. I know better than to do that now, Fakir knows what he's doing, or at least I assume he does. Cautiously, we tiptoe back into the shadow of the valley, where the couple of men had turned to a large group of men and women within the minutes I was gone. I keep my place behind Fakir, watching the group laugh and shout words mingled with obscenities.

His hand is on his blade as he starts walking out into the field, almost as if he was just going to practice his swordplay. Something about him seems so intimidating and yet approachable. He catches eyes with Victor and I watch the two slowly approach. Victor is cool and suave where Fakir is cold and civilized, both equal to a degree but starkly different. Victor opens his arms as if to hug an old friend, though Fakir is quick to pull out his blade.

"Don't act like we're friends." Fakir bares his teeth, grimacing at the blond. Victor places his hands back in his pockets, still smiling at Fakir.

"No need to be so prudish, I know why you're here." Victor's eyes and mine match for a second, before Fakir steps in front of his vision, blocking us from seeing one another. "You've got her on a tight leash, don'cha?"

"This isn't about her. This is about my students that you've systematically grooming and pimping."

"Woah woah woah, big guy. Those are some big words for someone in your position. I know what you two have been getting up to," Victor pushes Fakir's shoulder aside, smiling at me as he begins walking closer. I scamper back, only to halt at Fakir whipping his sword against Victor's chest. The air feels still as Victor turns to glare at Fakir again.

"Whatever you're implying, you're wrong." Fakir's hold on his blade tightens. "And you need to leave my students alone."

"Answer me this, fucker." Victor pushes away Fakir's blade, reaching into his pocket. "What's so wrong with playing with little girls?" Victor grins, watching Fakir pull back to swing. Victor pulls out a small handgun from his pocket, pointing it at Fakir.

Both men stand, just eyeing the other and waiting for the first move. My legs are jittery and practically compelled to move, to do something, anything! I need to protect Fakir, right? I need to help him, that's what people who love each other do. I bolt up and weave between both men. I press my body against Fakir, pulling him back further. I can hear Victor chuckling.

"Ah, so the little girl comes out to play, does she? She does have fancy you, if I remember our conversations right." Victor's free hand reaches for my hair. "Ducky, you cut your hair so short, didn't you? You look like a proper woman now. I bet it feels good to nail her, doesn't it, big guy?" Fakir swings his sword again, but Victor's handgun poises closer to me.

"Don't you dare hurt her." Fakir pulls me closer into his chest and I feel his nails dig into my back, physically begging to keep me closer.

"Don't get your panties in a twist. I'm not going to hurt her. Honestly, do you know how hard it is to fuck a corpse?" Victor tugs my hair, and suddenly I'm outside my body again. I watch myself scream and curl closer into Fakir. The sounds are far off, like an outsider looking in. The pressure and sound of the gunshot, the feeling of weakness and limpness. Watching Fakir fall to the ground as the hip of his trousers start to turn dark red, letting in spread downwards as he crumples to the grass, clutching onto the wound, his sword no longer at hand. I feel unable to move as Victor pulls me to the ground, his hands creeping underneath the long see-through skirt, pulling away at the unitard. I fall still, unsure and scared of what to do. I can't move, I can't feel.

Everything is blurry and horrifying as my tears cloud my view. I hear the unbuttoning of pants and the chorus of cheers on the other side of the valley. Something burns. My thighs are sore and my insides feel like they're tearing apart. I can't even attempt to move as my body just locks up. And then I feel it after only a few seconds; a warm and wet splatter on my stomach. It doesn't stop though. Victor hasn't pulled away from my body though.

Looking down, there's the tip of Fakir's sword scraping against the skin of my stomach. Victor doesn't attempt to move or even emote. I watch the sword pull back, releasing from his spine as a cascade of blood pools on top of me. Still underneath him, I watch his once sparkling manly smirk, his handsome and grand features, turn pale and hollow. Fakir pushes his body off, and there's a spark of energy back in my legs. I scurry upward, fixing my skirt and helping Fakir to his feet as Victor's mob starts bolting for us. Even while Fakir is limping behind, we manage to creep into the forestry, slipping away from the main trail. Despite the large group of people, they don't stray too far from one another. Fakir groans in pain as I rest him on the cold and dew stained grass. His pained smile still warms my heart. He pulls his shirt off, ripping the sleeves off, starting to pull his pants down. I can see the full wound. The entrance and exit look so clean. Shot from such a short range, I guess that would be the case. Still, seeing the bloodied wound makes my heart sink.

"Can you sew?" Fakir asks, his voice quaking. Applying a bit of pressure with the sleeve, I nod and keep my hands firm on the wound. He winces, letting out a sharp grunt. The sound of feet scuttling back into the valley quiets both of us. The creeping feet on the pathway, the hushed voices of Victor's mob, sniffles and sobs whimpering out of their lips. Genuine sympathy for such a horrible, ingenuine man. No one notices us, not a soul even brushes close to where we are, that I can see. We don't take any chances, still. Pulling deeper into the thickening forest and further from the wailing mod, I rest Fakir against a shaded tree as soon as we're out of their earshot.

"Aniela, I need you to sew this shut before there's an infection." Hearing my name coming from his groggy and pained lips is something I can't pinpoint my feelings on, but I just nod. I'm not going to argue with him while he's bleeding out. My hands are trembling furiously as I tighten the makeshift tourniquet around his leg, listening to him breathe in sharply through his teeth. I apologize, though he shakes his head. He knows that I'm not enjoying this sight or what I have to do now. I stand him up again, limping closer into town so we can at least try and find some help.

"Go to the blacksmith." Fakir demands, sharply inhaling again as the cobblestone streets come into view. I don't question him, running across the eerily empty streets towards the familiar building. Knocking on the door, I swallow down my fear as best as I can. Fakir shouts at the door, with the ounces of strength he has left, pounding his fist louder.

"Karon! It's me! Please, it's an emergency!" The sound of footsteps from inside and the quick pulling of both of us in is frightening. The door latches shut behind me before I can even register where I am entirely. It's a dusty and box riddled place, stirring at our feet as Fakir and I both cough intensely. A large man with greying hair helps me haul Fakir into a private backroom. His soot-lined clothes tightly cling to his thicker body structure as he heaves Fakir onto one of the semi-clear surfaces.

"What happened, Fakir? What's going on?" Karon looks over him, feeling his thigh around the tourniquet as he watches Fakir squirm and shout.

"I was shot, please just get her some sewing supplies!" Fakir demands through his pained whimpers. Karon looks me over, before nodding, running upstairs as quickly as his legs allowed. I nervously ask Fakir how he knows the blacksmith.

"He's my foster father. Look, I'd prefer we chat about this after I'm not crippled and bleeding out, okay?" He barks, and I wither back.

"You're right," I jolt back, before feeling Karon stuff my hand with a small sewing kit. Fakir pulls back the wound up sleeve, the dried blood crumbling onto where he laid. His leg is bright red, pulsing, but no longer bleeding. The wound is still open, Karon and I can see through it. Fakir holds above the wound, asking for something to grit his teeth with. Karon leaves, coming back with water, alcohol, and three small towels. I remind Fakir it's going to be very painful. He nods, gripping his leg until his knuckles are white. Karon gingerly places one towel on Fakir's forehead, the other in his mouth. I take a deep breath and drip some of the water onto the towel, starting to clean the outside. Fakir bites down on the towel already, and I can see the beads of sweat already dripping.

After cleaning as much blood as I can with the towel, I pour the rest of the water inside and around the wound, watching Fakir try not to shake or move. Tears are already in the seams of his eyes, and I feel terrible. Unscrewing the bottle of alcohol, I gently dab the towel against the putrid smelling liquid and start pressing it against the open wound. Fakir screams into the towel, biting down as hard as possible with sweat and tears pouring down his face. My heart throbs as I apologize, trying to disinfect it as fast as possible. Karon strokes his hair, trying to calm him down. Fakir's knuckles are pale as he continues trying to grip. I pour it down through the wound, disinfecting it even more. Fakir screams again, the towel looking like it's going to tear at any given second. I finally pull out the needle and thread, my shaking hands somehow being precise enough to loop the thread through the eye.

"I'm going to start on the count of three, okay?" My hands tremble as I hold onto Fakir's quivering leg, peering up at his pained face.

"Do it now!" He drops the towel from his mouth, Karon dabbing his forehead free of sweat with the other one. "It's not gonna get any worse than this."

I listen, my hands tightly holding onto his leg as I pull the needle through the tanned skin, watching droplets of blood spill as it's pulled through the other end. Fakir groans and wails, but I know I have to keep going. I keep threading until the hole is closed on the one end, knotting the thread to keep it in place. Fakir turns himself flat on his stomach, knowing I have to do the other side as well. My hands shake less now, knowing exactly what I have to do, as I repeat the suturing process. He heaves and wheezes, and I can hear the whimpering sobs with each pull of my needle through his flesh.

As the knot finally hits his skin, and the wound is completely closed, I watch Fakir let out the longest possible sigh, wiping his eyes free of tears and his face free of sweat. I put the supplies away, having everything finally hit me now. Placed into my own body again, I can tell it's been hours since I was in the field, the sun now hidden well behind the town and its hills. Karon picks Fakir up, nodding towards upstairs.

"Young lady, I might need your help opening his door." Karons voice is marginally softer, as I watch Fakir start to drift off. All that pain and restraint must take a lot of strength. I bolt up the stairs, following Karon through the rather small flat above his shop. We stop in front of one of the four doors in the cramped hallway, swinging it open for him. Inside is no more than a bed, a small desk and chair, and a bookshelf with little space aside from that. Still, Karon fits himself inside as he lays Fakir down on the small bed and watches his foster son fall asleep. As both of us walk slowly back downstairs, there's a strange silence hanging in the air. He invites me into the back, pulling aside a small chair next to an equally small table. I accept, smiling as I sit down.

"I'm sorry you had to see him like this," I murmur, anxiously fiddling my fingers as Karon prepares some hot water for coffee.

"You have nothing to worry about. Fakir is always doing something to harm himself, unintentionally albeit." Karon sits down in front of me, leaving a rusted silver kettle on the stove. "Now, can you tell me what happened? Anything at all?"

I nod, recounting the most important details excluding only my own gaps in memory. The kettle whistles, and Karon stands, moving it aside and filling two cups with coffee grounds and hot water. Handing me one of the mugs and sitting back down, I can see how torn he is.

"That boy sure does like getting into trouble." He chuckles, taking a swig of the black unfiltered coffee. I weakly laugh as well, trying to drink the hot grinds and water mixture. Karon recounts distant memories of Fakir as a young child getting into all kinds of trouble, still drinking his coffee every couple sentences until he places the mug down completely. I smile, politely trying to sip past the grinds to taste the bitter strength of the coffee. It's difficult, but entertaining to see a man still so lighthearted.

"And then there was one incident," Karon leans back in the chair, smiling brighter. "He came home, his chest torn open. It was deep enough I swear I coulda almost seen the cartilage. Couldn't have been much older than sixteen when it happened, and he said to me 'Dad, I know that I'm really hurt, but I just saved someone from getting hurt even worse, so please don't lecture me this once.'" Karon smiles at me even brighter, his hand patting the space over his heart. "And let me tell you, that boy really struck a chord that day. Never did say who he saved, but they must've been special. It was that day, I knew he was going to become someone's hero." I feel my lower lip quiver a bit. As tears try and drip down my cheeks, I manage to muster the courage to hold them back. Fakir constantly puts himself into danger, puts himself in harm's way just to make sure someone else doesn't have to suffer.

Karon lets me spend the night, mostly for my own safety. I wasn't going to deny him anyway, the world outside the doors of the blacksmith's home seems like a deathwish. I snuggle up on the chair with a blanket Karon had given me. He apologized for not having anywhere else, but it honestly doesn't bother me that much. I have slept in worse places and the fact he was kind enough to let a stranger stay in his house was enough for me.

I realize, after a couple hours of just sitting in that chair, everything I'm wearing is coated in a thick layer of dried blood, both Fakir's and Victor's, though it doesn't bother me. The thick scent of blood is already numbing to me, practically unnoticeable. Still, I stand and make my way towards the kitchen sink, turning on the cold faucet. I try and peel off the caked on flakes as best as I can, before starting to drench my once beautiful black unitard and tutu in water, cascading it in bright red and pink streaks from where the blood dripped. It isn't very important that it stays clean now, I realize, but I want to be clean for my own sake. Staring down at the floor, I realize the blood is just pooling below, making my legs streak with red threads of diluted blood as well.

I hear the fumbling of legs down the creaking stairs, and start drying myself off with one of the towels strewn about. It seems to just smear the blood, in all honesty, but it's better than being sopping wet. I sit back down in the chair, throwing the blanket Karon gave me back over myself. The air is suddenly filled with the scent of alcohol and blood again, and I start for the stairs as the feet become shakier.

"Fakir, you can't get out of bed right now," I watch as my dark haired lump begins struggling to step down the stairs. "You need to rest until you're all better."

"Aniela…" He whimpers my name again. I stroke his hair, taking him back up into the small room and laying him down in his bed. "Please don't leave… Please stay in here tonight…" His voice cracks in a hushed whisper. I pull his blankets over him, pulling out the chair from his desk and sitting upright in it.

"I won't leave, Fakir. I promise I won't." I smile at him, taking his hand and kissing it very softly. He squeezes mine, weakly smiling back. There's a long and peaceful silence, the only sound is that of Fakir's laboured breaths.

"Your name suits you," Fakir says, calm and collected. I look over at him in the dark, the bare outline of his face and torso almost invisible in the darkness.

"What, Ahiru?"

"Aniela. It's Polish. Do you know what it means?" I shake my head, and Fakir smiles.

"My mom always told me that I was her angel, so I assume it's something along those lines."

"Graceful, angelic, and merciful. A divine being, essentially." Fakir sits up, holding his weight on his elbows and forearms. I can feel him staring at me, those green eyes wide with intrigue and his smile curled to one side. I smile back, knowing he can't see it. My hand cups his cheek, and I stroke the hair away from his face, feeling his statue-esque features. The small creases and smile lines of his cheeks, the sharp point of his jawline, the smooth feel of his olive skin.

"Why would any of those things suit me?" I ask, brushing my fingers against his lips. He takes my hand gently, pressing my knuckles back against those soft pink lips. Laying back down he finally responds.

"You're an angel, in some ways. A clumsy and anxious angel, but an angel nonetheless." I can feel a smile curl across his lips, watching him reach out in the pale moonlight to stroke my cheek. I lean my head down, pressing his forehead against mine. The warm intermingling of our breaths makes me shiver. "You're kind and beautiful. You stand up for yourself and others when you need to. You always mean well, no matter what you do. You might not be mature for your age, or the prettiest girl in the room, but that smile is all I need to know you're all that I ever wanted." His voice is weak and sleepy, drifting between conscious and unconscious. I kiss him gently, watching him fall fast asleep. The purity in his voice. I can't help but feel tears finally shed.

I am someone's idea of perfect for once. I stroke his hair for hours before watching the early sun rise in a show of red and orange streamers, dancing away the deep purples and twinkling yellows of the night sky. A pas de deux between two equals. My stomach turns and I realize I haven't eaten for an entire day. I feel my insides cramp and practically scrunch together, begging for something to eat. I leave Fakir to sleep, walking down the stairs quietly.

As I finally make my way down to the little kitchen I tried to sleep in last night, I realize there's still blood on the floor, in the sink, and on my clothes. I sigh, starting to wipe everything down again. It isn't until Karon pats me on the shoulder that I stop and turn around, faced with a Gold Crown male's uniform.

"No need to soak in that blood all day. Just change and we can clean this mess later." He bellows. I accept the uniform into my tiny hands, smiling gratefully. After a few short minutes of me struggling to wash the blood off my skin, and wiggling helplessly in the oversized uniform, I show Karon who smiles.

"You seem to be good to go. Why not show Fakir his old uniform is being put to good use?" Before I can protest, Karon walks me up the stairs and into Fakir's bedroom. He and I make eye contact and I smile at him, pulling the sleeve up to wave at him. Fakir giggles as he leans against his wall, trying to push his flushed face into the hard surface. I roll up the sleeves and pant legs a bit more, hoping to not drag anything, giggling back. Fakir continues to laugh until Karon hears a knock at the door.

As he leaves, I open my mouth, ready to say something when Fakir hushes me. He's listening closely to the walls. The door creaking open as Karon greets someone. Samiel's voice reverberates through the cracks, and both Fakir and I know this is the end of the road.


	15. Chapter 15

As soon as the door shuts, and the additional pair of footsteps can be heard, Fakir and I know we are absolutely screwed. My heart thuds and pounds as Samiel's voice can be heard through the walls, asking if Karon knows where Fakir is. Karon lies, though I assume more for his own sake than ours. Still, I thank him silently and plentifully for harboring us.

"It's imperative that we find him. This investigation is getting very serious, and I would hate to see you or him hurt. If he comes by, please send him to us." The scooting of a chair from under her squeaks throughout the house. Her footsteps are loud, the clacking of her heels feel deafening.

"I understand, Missus. I'll let you know if I see either of them. Thank you for stopping by." Karon stands as well, leading her to the door. The door squeaks on its hinges as it opens, and Samiel leaves. Both Fakir and I let out long breaths before hugging one another. It's pleasant to have someone who understands the pain of what I have to endure now. His fingers grip onto me for dear life, bringing me closer to his chest as I roll into his bed, snuggling him closely while avoiding his poor wounded hip. Fakir strokes my hair, kissing the top of my head.

The door opens to Fakir's room, and Karon stands in the doorway as Fakir still snuggles me to his chest. My eyelids feel heavy, though I hear snippets of their conversations through the steady beating of Fakir's heart. Something about us getting a move on, finding somewhere to stay for a while, something about it not being safe for us. Fakir agrees with him, though I somehow drift off before I know anything more.

It's hard to pinpoint a place in this dream. I'm both in the Academy's ballet hall and in Rue's aviary. The birds are… dancing ballet. They're dancing to an out of tune melody, a broken music box. Tiptoeing around and between some of the bird's pairings, I see the room become vaster, more spacious. I hear my stomach howl and beg for something. It's painful and aching, swollen, and uncomfortable. I shake the feeling away from my head, trying to push away that gnawing hunger. The music box isn't much further as I walk towards it, the dancing birds now making way for me. On a pedestal at the top of ivory stairs is the box, the small figures dancing together in constant rotation. The music becomes more and more distorted and off-key with every step I take up the stairs. As I make it to the top, finally reaching my hands out to hold the box to rewind it, I feel that stinging in my stomach again. That harsh gnawing that's eating me alive and breaking my spirit. It groans and bites, forcing me to double over in pain and grip onto my stomach. The cramping of my muscles is inscrutable, feeling more real than anything else. The music box rewinds itself, and the gnawing halts for a moment.

I reawake to the smell of eggs. Peering up, Fakir is already sitting straight in his bed, reading a book with no front title. I look up at him, my stomach rumbling greatly as I wince. He finally notices I'm awake, marking his page and stroking my hair.

"You're awake. Good, Karon brought you some food. It's not much, but it's enough to fill you up for a few hours." Fakir reaches behind me, placing a small metal plate on his lap, along with a fork. It has a small set of fried eggs on it, still steaming slightly. I rub the sleep from my eyes, sitting back in my chair as I thank him. Fakir hands me the plate as I begin eating slowly.

"What happened? How long have I been asleep?"

"Only about an hour. Karon is working currently, but he sent an urgent letter out to Mytho and Rue earlier, so hopefully we have somewhere to stay for the next few weeks. I hate imposing on them during their spring season, but we can't stay here." I slurp the last of the eggs down, having soothed my stomach enough for the gnawing to stop. I can see Fakir out of the corner of my eye internally calculating something. I pat his back, trying to be supportive, watching him smile and go back to calculating.

"How's your hip feeling?" I reach my hand out meekly, watching Fakir shrug.

"Like shit still. But it's not as bad as yesterday. I read a couple studies while you were sleeping, and they say I should be alright within ten days or so." He gently rubbed above the stitches, his fingers twitching as he brushed. "It's gonna be a pain to do any walking or sitting even after that, but I'll manage." His voice is surprisingly chipper as he speaks. He really is one of the strongest people I can imagine. Taking a gunshot to the leg and having it sutured completely without any anesthetics must've been brutal for him. His face is still slightly flushed of color, though the olive tones in his skin are starting to come back slowly.

We sit together in his room like this for a few days, reading books in silence and praying that no one comes by to check back with Karon. I peer out the window, meekly hoping the streets are empty. The weather is nicely overcast and a drizzle of rain pinged against the glass, though a familiar shadow roams near, the very presence making my stomach ache beyond belief. The fact that it's so close makes me want to throw up and cry.

Antoinette is wandering about the streets, her brother following with, talking to a large group. I recognize some faces as those that chased after Fakir and I the other day and my heart sinks. I pull my face back, staring at Fakir and shaking my head. He cocks his head.

"What's the matter?"

"She's out there." I watch his eyebrows and the bridge of his nose scrunch in disgust.

"What do you think they're doing?" Fakir wiggles towards the window, wincing at the sting of his side.

"I don't know, looking for us probably? Her and Samiel all seem to be buddy-buddy."

"Just keep calm then." Fakir sighs as he recedes back into his bed, laying down with another book already open. I stare at him for a long moment, watching the black strands fall loose over his eyes as he reads. My heart pounds, not in admiration or care, but in a nervous flutter. I can't just keep calm with them roaming the streets. I slink back down into my seat, feeling the distressful pain in my gut again.

The pang lingers until I finally snuggle into Fakir's bed, curled up into his side as the day lingers on. In his arms, I read passages from his book. It's something about childhood trauma again.

"Um… Fakir?"

"Hm?"

"Why do you always read books like this?" I gently wiggle a corner of the hard cover.

"It fascinates me, if I'm honest. It's an insight into the human condition and how we shape young people from the way we're raised." He turns another page.

"Do you think I'm traumatized?" He pauses a second before slipping his bookmark into the crease.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you were. I'd be more surprised if you weren't. You seem to have very common symptoms of Posttraumatic Stress." He strokes my hair as I'm in his arms. "You disassociate very regularly when things get too stressful, you seem to have specific triggers, along with waking nightmares." My throat tightens. There's something different about hearing it. I know I've had those things happen, I know they're probably not normal, but hearing him say that I'm traumatized is different.

"You know I have issues with that as well, right?" Fakir presses his lips to the top of my hair. I look up at him.

"Do you?"

"I get nightmares and I get very hostile and aggressive when I'm triggered." I think about his words for a long moment. It makes sense; he's been traumatized by things too. He's been through a lot, just like I have. I nod my head.

"It's hard."

"It is, but I'll help you learn how to slowly get better. We'll learn together." Fakir kisses the top of my head and turns back to his book. I feel one arm wrap underneath me. I snuggle into him, cuddling closely, my chest feeling hot. I feel the beating of my heart in there, quickening in pace.

It's another few days of isolation, only speaking to each other and Karon until we finally receive word and instructions from Rue. Seven long days of self isolation felt like forever, but her kindness was welcome. It was late in the evening when she arrived to gather us. Fakir and Karon hugged and said their goodbyes. I thanked him for his kindness as I climbed into that cramped carriage. My hands are slick with sweat as I help Fakir in beside me. Rue looks about outside making sure no one is following us, before we set off back towards her house. The night air peels past my skin as we start off.

I can't shake the uneasiness from my stomach as we continue. Something feels so wrong. I don't say anything, letting Fakir explain the situation to Rue, catching her up to speed. I feel her hands comb through my hair, though my tired mind and eyes don't acknowledge her presence. I don't think she particularly minds though, as her and Fakir continue their conversation, trying to lighten their own moods. Leaning my head on Fakir's shoulder, I attempt to drift off. While my eyes are closed, I can't manage to fall asleep. Something is definitely hurting in the pit of my stomach. Something deep, pushing against me.

The sickness doesn't wash away, worsening as we hit bumps and craters. Something doesn't feel right at all. I peek out the window for a second, catching a glimpse of… A person. A human following behind us about 60 feet. In the dark of night, I can't make out much, instead pulling my head back inside.

"We have to speed up," I groan. Rue quirks and eyebrow.

"But you said you don't feel well."

"Something is following us. We have to speed up or else they'll gain on us." I groan a bit louder, pressing my heavy head into Fakir's shoulder. Rue glances outside and confirms my previous deduction, knocking on the drivers window and asking him to speed further. I can't hear much after Fakir starts to stroke my hair.

"You have a fever." His hand is pressed to my forehead as he says this.

"I'll be fine. We just need to get to the house and then I'll rest." My hands tingle as I snuggle closer to him. The freezing heat that washes over me is painful. I can't explain it. It's unlike any sort of sickness I've had previous. My hands shake fervently as my head throbs. The list of possible ailments runs through my head. Flu, tumors, parasites. Something nasty is brewing inside me and needs to get out quick. Rue finally addresses me entirely.

"You two seemed fine a couple weeks ago. Has the Headmistress really gotten that bad?" Rue pulls the hair from my face and I smile, still woozy.

"She's been like this a while. They can't do anything if someone has enough money. They think that silence can be bought." Fakir grips his unbroken leg tightly. "Samiel didn't know anything about Victor, but Wayland and Antoinette apparently were close to him. Something about their families running in the same businesses. I didn't care much to understand the dynamics they had with each other. They're all bastards, as far as I care. They were pimping out underage girls and students who don't succeed in class very well. Predators, that's all they were."

The carriage stops and Rue begins unloading us into the house. I carry Fakir as best I can into the room we shared before upstairs. I fall asleep before he does, still dressed in his pajamas. Still, before I fully drift, I wonder who that person could have been.


	16. Chapter 16

The night air howls in anticipation, though I'm sitting in the bathroom, hugging close to one of the trash cans in the private suite. My stomach churns aggressively, and I can't help but feel ill. Everything is spinning and my vision is tunnelled. It has to have been the long carriage ride, but something feels strange about this ailment. Fakir stands with Mytho by the front door, waiting to see if the mystery figure who had followed us was still going to try and visit.

After dry heaving what little I have left in my lungs, I finally lie down on my bed and groan, clutching my stomach in pain. It's my anxiety, it has to be. I've been under so much pressure and stress in the past couple days that my body is finally processing and reacting to it. Rue pats my forehead with a cold towel, trying to calm me down and I smile at her. She gives a weak smile back, and continued stroking and combing through my hair.

"Poor Ducky," She sighs, and I feel my stomach churn again, though it's in less agony this time. The clamber of footsteps up the stairs is a minor surprise, but Rue rushes to the door and stops them just outside. I lay in my bed, trying to overhear, but the immense ringing in my ears is enough to fill my head with nothing but a pounding ache. I catch a brief glance of Fakir from the doorframe and smile at him. He doesn't seem to acknowledge my presence, his stoic composure all I can notice as he speaks to Rue. He nods his head along to the conversation. I try and read their lips, though my grogginess gets the better of me, and I shut my aching eyes. It is going to be a long night.

It almost feels like I'm in a fever dream. Nothing is coherent and I can't seem to find the will to even process it. Everyone is melting, I'm just laying there dripping into a puddle. Something doesn't feel right. Antoinette is there. She's the single figure not tinted bright, bloody red. Her hands wrap over my waist, and I'm far too tired to reject. We dance a Pas De Deux, similar to Fakir and mine. However when she dips me, I watch her teeth sink into my flesh, and I pop like a balloon. My fingers twitch and I'm no longer asleep. My eyes are closed, but I am fully awake now. Still covered in sweat and trembling in pain, I try and fall back asleep.

The bed meshes inwards a bit and I open my eyes again, Fakir sitting on the edge of my bed and staring off into the distance. I smile at him, placing my hand on his. He doesn't seem to acknowledge me, instead staring off at the wall.

"Ahiru," He speaks slowly and softly, as though his voice is hoarse. "I need you to do something very important for me."

I nod my head. "Yes, Fakir?"

"I need you to not leave this room, alright? I just want to make no one's really following us." Fakir kisses my forehead softly, his fingers gently running over my cheek. I furrow my brows and prop myself up on my elbows, staring him down.

"Please tell me you're not going after whoever that was," I groan, knowing he isn't listening to me. He finally makes eye contact with me and hugs his arms over my shoulders. I hug him back.

"You're sick. I don't want anyone coming after you when you're weak."

"You're recovering from a bullet wound, Fakir. I'm fully capable of helping-"

"This isn't a debate." He tightened his arms around my neck and I tremble further. I don't want this to end, I don't want to see him walking out. But I close my eyes to cry. And suddenly, I'm asleep again. I feel the warm embrace of blankets being tucked over me, and I can hear my inner thoughts screaming.

"Wake up, wake up please! Aniela, please!" I feel like I'm clawing from behind my eyelids, screaming without breath, trying to do anything to wake up. Victor trots towards me, the gaping sword wound protruding from his chest as he continues to approach. I take a step back from him, my fists poised and ready for a fight. He takes my hand and leads me through a simple first year dance. Quick and easy; exactly what he thought I was.

I jolt awake and the world is starting to crash. I throw my legs out from under the blankets, bursting into Fakir's room. Nothing. I bolt down the stairs and notice no one in any of the rooms. I stop in front of the front window and stare. The timid glimpse of the moon peeking from behind the clouds doesn't help my already unfocused gaze. I can't see him. I can't see anybody, in fact. My legs wobble, and my lungs feel zapped of all air, though I still rush outside into the cold air. Stinging bits of misty air make my eyes water and well with tears as I trudge further.

"Fakir!" I scream, my voice hoarse. I watch as the trees rustle, but no voice to echo back to me. I scream again. "Please come home, Fakir!" I trudge towards the road, trying to break into a run despite my leg quaking with what little energy is left. He's out there. I know he is.

My commotion must have woken up Rue, as she was outside in a matter of seconds, clutching my arm and begging me to come back inside the house. I cry and thrash, wanting to run after him.

"He's going to be okay. You're still sick, though. Please lay down." Rue leads me back inside, sitting me down in the living room. She guides me through drinking a warm drink. I can't place my finger on the taste since I'm only using it to soothe my throat before going back out. Her voice is calming, but all the words are jumbled. Fakir is out there, possibly hurt, and I'm doing nothing to help. I feel her tepid hand on my shoulder and I shiver. It feels so much warmer than it should. The cold sweats are starting to get to me. I follow her back up the stairs once my mug is empty and listen to her pace back to her own room. I wait until the house is quiet, only listening to the vague creaking of old wood.

I leave again, much quieter now. I stare at the gravel road, trying to find any sense of where he could possibly be. I turn to the dirt road instead. Despite wanting to keel over and vomit from the double vision, I notice the footprints. Something definitive. Then I start walking.

The tracks gave out at a large field of dead grass. It was strange for it to be dead in such nice weather. The sun had peeked over the horizon and I know Rue and Mytho will be looking for me in a few hours. But I am so close to making sure he's okay, but if he had come this far…

No, I can't think negatively. I trot through the grass, listening for any sound aside from the crunching beneath my bare feet.

_Rrrrrrip!_

The tearing of fabric. I bolt in the direction it came from, screaming Fakir's name. I hear my own nightgown tear beneath me, smacking my face against the dry and dead grass scratches my cheeks. I scamper up, listening to the fabric tear to about my knees, though it doesn't matter. My throat burns, my lungs begging me to stop. I won't stop.

I see Fakir laid on the ground in the distance, and I see someone standing over him. She's a pace or two away, but I see her circling him, a vulture to a dying animal. An immediate surge of adrenaline overcomes me. Fakir notices and I hear him scream.

"Ahiru, go!" his voice is cracking and distraught, his arm outstretched. I hesitate for that second. Antoinette makes eye contact and I watch her stamp on Fakir's wrist. I hear him scream in agony and I lurch forward towards him.

"Stop it!" I feel myself trip again over the baggy fabric again, scrambling up to watch her coming closer to me. She's enigmatic in her expression, completely moot of emotion.

"You're truly something, aren't you?" Antoinette smirks, her face red and her eyes swollen from crying, it seems. "You think you can just get away with all the shit you've done to me?"

Fakir grits his teeth, trying to sit up. "Don't you dare fucking touch her! She didn't do anything!"

"This isn't about you anymore!" Antoinette turns to him, screaming at the top of her lungs. I take a step back, my hands raised to my chest. Antionette pulls her hair back into an uncouth bun and turns back to me. "You, Duck, have been nothing but a parasite to me. You lied about my brother raping you, you got him expelled. I was nice enough to be your friend, to give you a space to be someone, but no. You had to go out and get everyone wrapped around your perfect little finger. You had to convince everyone you were pitiful."

Antoinette circles me, and I feel locked in this panic attack. "You went around and got everyone to like you. And now, I'm gonna tell everyone that you and Fakir are fucking. And, about that thing inside you," she motions towards my stomach. "I'm gonna make sure it doesn't see the light of day."

I furrow my brows, confused. "What are you talking about?" Antoinette's head rolls back as she cackles. Fakir gulps and I peer behind her. "Fakir, what did you say?"

"Like you don't already know. They say the quickest and easiest way to get rid of that kind of parasite is a swift force to the stomach." Antoinette balls her hand into a fist, and I take another step back.

"Anty, I'm not… I'm just sick right now, I'm not pregnant," I murmur, fearfully clutching my tummy. Fakir scampers to his knees, reaching his uninjured hand towards me.

"Ahiru, just run. Please." Antoinette grips onto my wrist, and I feel my stomach collide with her knee. I gasp for breath weakly as she lets me fall to the ground. Curled into the fetal position, Fakir sprints to me.

"You bastard!" He barks at Antoinette. She rolls her eyes and starts walking off. "You'll never get away with this."

"Oh, I'm so scared. A wanted criminal and his underage bride are gonna tattle on me for causing a miscarriage. Whatever shall I do?" Antoinette gloats, I can see her smiling through the tears dripping down my face. "Give it up. They're gonna find you. They're going to hang you and Duck is gonna move on and probably fuck plenty of other men without a second thought." I curl up further and feel my insides cramping even further. The sound of her footsteps becoming more distant barely penetrates the ringing in my ears.

Fakir's hand leaves my side, and I hear his weight shift to his feet. I turn my head up, staring at him physically shaking in fear. I watch as he sprints forward, screaming before slamming Antoinette to the ground. The crash of his fists against her, her limbs flailing and kicking at him to get off, and the screams they both make cause a symphony of terrible and torturous noises. I weakly try and crawl towards them, attempting to find the strength to stand back up. My knees ache, and my stomach protests. I cough and dry heave, arid oxygen barely able to enter my body.

But the strength is still there, and I manage to do so. "Antoinette. I want you to dance with me." I stare at the both of them. Their fighting halts for a split second. I keep a confident front as Antoinette starts laughing. She pushes Fakir away with ease, starting back towards me.

"Don't invite her Ahiru, leave now!" Fakir groans, standing up. I don't budge, feeling Antoinette press her burly chest against mine. The confidence I think I have still feels like it's draining fast, but I have to keep pretending. Antoinette smiles, the wickedness now obvious behind those dark voids for eyes.

"You're serious, aren't you? What makes you think that dancing will make any of this better?" Antoinette pushes her finger against my chest. I shake my head.

"You don't have a problem with Fakir. You have a problem with me." I swallow the lump in my chest, and feel my confidence draining further. Antoinette looks back at Fakir, still laughing at me.

"Alright, we can dance. We just need to do it how I want."

"If I do better, you have to leave me and Fakir alone. If you do, then I'll go with you willingly. Just leave Fakir alone." My palms ache and sweat, but I hold out a hand. Antoinette shakes hers with mine.

"Deal. Now, why don't you show some more skin?" She rips the hem of my gown even further. I rescind myself and hear Fakir immediately object.

"No, Ahiru. You're not doing this, I'll go with Antoinette and-"

"Oh, no no, we shook on it, buster. Sit your ass down or I'm taking both of you to the authorities and making sure they know everything you've both done." Antoinette smiles as I begin taking off my clothes. My breath is shaky, but I try and take on the role of Princess Tutu again. With every ounce of courage, I let my dress slip down to reveal my body, only barely covered by a thin undershirt and a pair of black underwear. Antoinette smiles and motions me to start.

"Wouldn't you want to go first?" I nervously shift my hand over my more intimate areas. Antoinette forces Fakir to sit as well, smiling at me.

"What? So you guys have all the energy to run away together? Absolutely not."

"What if we danced together? Then Fakir couldn't hurt you and I couldn't run away." I extend my hand to her. She looks me over, scoffing and taking my hand.

"Not a bad idea, for a dumbass." she presses me back close to her, her hand against my waist and the other in my own. I nod and let her lead. She starts moving us in sync, and I feel words leave my mouth.

"Why are you so angry?" She pulls me up, staring at me face to face. Her hand grips mine a little tighter as she dips me.

"You're not stupid. You know exactly why."

_One, two, three, step._

"But what did I do to hurt you?"

_One, two, three, step._

"You stole him from me. You lied about my brother. You killed my friend and made people hate me."

_One, two, three…_

"You know those things aren't true, though. You know that I couldn't control who Fakir fell in love with. You know your brother hurt me. You know Victor was pimping girls out."

_One, two…_

"Even if those things are true, you knew they hurt me…"

_One…_

"Antoinette, you're not a bad person. I know you're not a bad person. They made you believe what they did was okay so they could hurt you more." I murmur, feeling my face now pressed into her chest, still locked in a dance.

"You don't know them like I do." Antoinette shakes her head, tightening her grip on my hand. My fingers feel crushed beneath her.

"But I know that this isn't you." I respond, trying to remind her who she used to be.

"You don't know who I am!" Antoinette screams, pulling back from me finally. She takes a few paces away from Fakir and I. "I'm not going to sit here and be told what to do by you assholes! I know where you're hiding, and the police will too! I'm done!" Antoinette stumbles off towards the road again and I suddenly feel like I'm crashing. My knees feel shattered and my stomach is suddenly churning back in pain. I manage to catch myself before I fall to the ground, coughing and wheezing. The fire is back in my lungs, and I begin heaving up anything in my stomach. Fakir immediately runs to my side, rubbing my back as I try not to vomit from the pain I'm in.

"I couldn't help her…" I murmur, resting my head against Fakir's chest.

"She couldn't be helped, Ahiru… Not everything has a nice, neat ending." Fakir kisses the top of my head, starting to stand us both up. His hand rests against my stomach, and I twinge in pain. "You shouldn't have let her be so rough with you." He pulls my dress back over me, and I try to close the large gaping rip in his shirt.

"Why not? It's not like I'm actually pregnant." I shrug my shoulders, standing both of us up. Fakir stays quiet, and I finally realize that he's not joking. "How did you figure it out before I did?"

"You've been cramping and in pain constantly. You've been sick for the past two weeks. We all thought you were just trying to deny it." Fakir starts walking us back from where I came. I stay silent, unsure of what to even say. I guess he's right in that sense, but it just felt like a fever. Suddenly her knee feels like it hit much harder. I tough it out, still directly underneath Fakir's arm. I peer up at him, timidly remarking.

"Do… Do you think she's actually going to tell people?"

"Who knows. I don't think she will." It's another long silence. I press my hand to my stomach again, still not entirely sure if there's anything in there. If there is, did she kill it? Fakir stops, pulling my chin up to stare at him.

"What if it's not there anymore?" I whimper, tears filling my eyes. Why do I feel so devastated about losing a pregnancy I didn't even know I had? I couldn't have taken care of this child, we would have constantly been on the run, and they would have been miserable. Fakir pulls me into a loving embrace, stroking my back.

"We have all the time in the world to try again. If they're safe, then we can be thankful. If not, you're still young. You don't need to worry about it until we're safe, okay?" Fakir kisses the top of my head. I nod, tears still pouring down my face. I want to keep this one though. I want to make sure they're alive.

Rue and Mytho catch us about halfway from the house. Their arms welcome us, shaky and clutching us for dear life. Mytho lifts me bridal style, carrying me back home as Rue helps Fakir continue to walk.

"Are you guys okay?" Mytho turns to stare at Fakir. I nod.

"Just tired…"

"We need to get her back to see if we can salvage the pregnancy, Antoinette ended up attacking her stomach." Fakir's tone is flat, only groaning as his hand presses to his chest. I wrap my arms over Mytho's shoulders, quaking a bit. With another sharp pain in my pelvis, I feel like that's going to be impossible. Maybe I need to accept that. It can't always work out, and Fakir and I can try again, right?

"Duck, they're stuck under a lot of muscle. Your body will take care of you." Rue strokes my hair and I smile as much as my mouth allows me to. The rest of the trip, I'm zoned out. Fakir just explains the situation, and Rue reprimands me for leaving against her wishes. Coming back into the house, I'm led back into my bedroom with well wishes. The door is left open and I can hear the adults downstairs. Fatigue sets in as I lay down. I'm so tired, so hungry, so in pain I can't even think of a time I felt like this.

My hand presses against the little ball of tension. I push down and cringe. The pain is far too much to stomach and I stop. Maybe I just need to sleep it off. But the gnawing pain of hunger and the aching of Antoinette's knee having pressed to my stomach is enough to keep me awake.

I decide to join the others, trudging downstairs in a new nightie. If anything, it's just to distract myself from the pain and to figure out what exactly happened with Fakir. As I sidle next to the fireplace, I listen intently to Fakir and Mytho.

"She had just… followed us. She must have known about Karon and waited. It wasn't just dumb luck." Fakir takes a sip of the aromatic rum and Mytho leans forward.

"What about her dad? Do you think he would know by now?" Mytho's knee begins jittering, his hands pressed to his chin. I pull my knees to my chest as I listen.

"I don't know. It sounded like she came here alone, but I can't be certain with her."

"So, are we going to have to leave again?" I ask, hugging my legs tighter. Everyone finally acknowledges my presence, and stares at one another in silence. The sound of the wind from the chimney is all that manages to keep the room from being too quiet. Rue looks out the back window and speaks up.

"You two might have to. I don't think we can help much more, without putting our own lives in more danger." Her tone is cold and flat. Mytho nudges her shoulder and continues.

"What Rue means is, we can try to help you find somewhere, but other than that, we can't help. We've already put off a performance to keep you here safely and we can't risk ourselves much more without becoming suspicious."

"Don't stress too much about it. Ahiru and I just need what we brought. I can take it from there." Fakir stands up, now walking back towards the stairs. "Let me wash up and we can be on our way." Mytho and Rue nod their heads as he disappears out of the living room. I peer over at the two of them, noticing wrinkles that weren't there before. Stress. Rue doesn't return my gaze, but Mytho sits beside me, hugging me under his arm.

"Does everything feel okay?" He glances at my stomach. I know what he means. I nod my head.

"It still hurts, but there hasn't been any blood or anything…" I lower my knees and press a hand against where I think they might be. Mytho smiles at me and pats my hand. I hear the water turn on upstairs, and I sigh. "I need to take a shower. I'll be down in a bit."

I turn towards the door, thanking both of them one more time. Climbing the stairs feels like a death wish, but I make it to the top. Instead of entering my room, I slip into Fakir's, disrobing and walking into the washroom with him. He's already naked, suds flowing down his well sculpted figure. We catch eyes and I stop. Gulping, I ask if I can join. He accepts, simply opening the glass door.

As I stand in front of him, completely naked, I see the bullet damage. His poor leg, still stitched tightly. It's starting to scar, more discolored and raised skin. I take his hand and kiss the knuckles.

"Thank you, Fakir."

"Why are you thanking me?" He pulls his hand away, starting to rub the bar of soap over my body. He lets me stand underneath the hot water as well.

"Because you deserve thanks," I wipe the short strands out of my face now. He begins scrubbing my back, kissing my neck.

"You're the one who got her to leave. You're a lot more confident in yourself than you were before everything happened." He hugs me close, hot droplets spilling from the faucet over both of us. I hug back, a question aching in the back of my mind. Maybe now isn't the best time to ask, but I do anyway.

"Do you wish that you could have changed something about… This..?" I hold him closer, watching his hand reach for the faucet and turn it off. His arm rescinds as soon as he's done, holding me close still. The only sound is the dripping faucet. I feel him rest his forehead on my shoulder before speaking.

"If I'm honest… I wish I hadn't pulled you down. I feel like I've forced you into adulthood when you're still a child. But I wouldn't change a thing about you." He presses his lips against me before turning me around and kissing my cheek. "I wish I had stayed your teacher for the time being, but… Some things work out differently."

"Yeah," I smile, wrapping my arms over his slick, wet shoulders. "I guess they do."

"Ahiru?"

"Yes Fakir?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."


End file.
